《[HIATUS] Dragon Scythe Online》 Log in, Knight-Hero! Part 1 His stout dwarven father slams open the door to his bedroom, rousing an ancient legend from his sleep with a sharp jolt. ¡°Son! They¡¯ve finally come, those *******¡± The grizzled man shout with unnecessary volume into the room, as dwarves are so partial to do. ¡°Up from your bed, Hero, my son, and come with me quickly!¡± The young blond, blue-eyed lad of a bout eighteen rears his head near his small bedside window. It sounds like screaming from outside, and the steady hues of fire engulfing the weak and the foolish. Suddenly, an arrow smashes through the window and darts right into the dwarf¡¯s ale-filled chest. ¡°Argh! **** me in the ***!¡± His father cries as a crippling ¡°159¡± digit marks above his head. The dwarf blacksmith stumbles with a crash as he paints the side wall with his crimson blood. Hero jolts from bed to his father¡¯s side. Even though he cannot speak, and has no memory of his past, and has been touched by a horrible curse, or something, Hero knows that his father was always there for him, and even let him read his dirty elf magazines. He gently runs his fingers along his struggling father¡¯s wound, close enough to the heart to cause serious bleeding. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, my son. Those ******* I know you can¡¯t speak, but if you had the option to, I know you would tell me that you love me and that you¡¯ll always remember me, and that you¡¯ll name your son after me, and that you¡¯ll make a statue of me, and that you¡¯ll commission some nice lookin¡¯ hammers in my honor, and-¡± As Hero¡¯s father goes on and on about how much he¡¯s certain Hero loves him, something strikes the young lad as strange. His father mentioned that ¡°if he had the option to¡± he would speak about how great his dad is. In a joint mix of desperation and inspiration, Hero mentally selects the ¡°options¡± tab on his mystical H.U.D.: his curse. He looks over to the ¡°chat¡± sub section in the menu that pops up cheerily, and realizes that, for all these years, he¡¯s had parental control¡¯s family chat turned on. He aptly clicks it, and at once he¡¯s released from the perils of being the silent self-insert character.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. ¡°Are you listening to a fuckin¡¯ word I¡¯m saying, boy?¡± Hero jolts in awe. He¡¯s never heard that word before. ¡°Uh¡­ Yeah,¡± Hero says in a mild, though deep, voice. The dwarf jolts the same as Hero. They¡¯re both in awe. ¡°You can¡­ you can talk, boy!¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Hero raises his eyebrows awkwardly. ¡°I guess I can.¡± ¡°What the fuck!? How by Arskull¡¯s black beard does that happen?¡± Hero shrugs. ¡°There¡¯s a thing that says ¡®options¡¯, I don¡¯t really know what it means, but somehow I¡­ I selected it and-¡± ¡°Okay that¡¯s all fine and well, lad, but now you can cast the healing spell!¡± Hero perks up. ¡°The one in the elder¡¯s tent?¡± The dwarf shoots a playful, if a bit weak, fist into Hero¡¯s shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s the one!¡± Hero draws up. ¡°Take my sword and shield with you, those undead dirt-fuckers are gonna have a bad day when they cross swords with you, my only son and a natural swordsman!¡± Hero steps into the hall and gathers up his father¡¯s equipment from the mantelpiece. The prompts skew his vision. He remembers now why he barely ever picks anything up:
You looted: Shortsword, Level 4!
You looted: Buckler, Level 2!
Hero equips the gear immediately and looks to his father a final time. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll be back soon. I just wanted to say that I love you, father, and that you¡¯ve always bee-¡± ¡°I¡¯m bleeding, son, by Arskull¡¯s fucking balls. This hurts!¡± His father interrupts, and rightfully so. Dramatic monologues are only appropriate for when one has time for them. Hero jolts. ¡°R-right, on my way!¡± He says as he dashes through the door, and into the flaming village. Log in, Knight-Hero! Part 2 Through the mad crowds of horrified peasants, the sight of the undead horde fills the horizon like their fiery arrows. They''re only minutes away. Hero weaves into the crowd of fleeing people as he makes his way to the elder¡¯s at a breakneck speed. Unlike the other humans, Hero has always been able to manage his stamina perfectly, with no small thanks to the nifty green bar in his H.U.D., telling him precisely how much breath he has before he runs out. He dashes onward past a slow, tripping crowd and into the quieter part of the village. From here, the screams of the villagers are nearly muffled out by the steady breeze as it rustles against the woodlands. By the old watermill stands the elder¡¯s house, far older than the elder and much easier to look at. Hero breaks through the elder¡¯s door, dark with the mustiness of little use and few visitors. ¡°Elder! I need the healing spell!¡± Hero calls out. From a side room, the light of a candle steadily glows its way to the entryway. Entering via cane is the elder, as slow and old as ever. ¡°Hero? Is that really you?¡± ¡°Yes, I can speak now! I need the healing spell to save my father!¡± ¡°Your father¡­¡± the crusty elder uses his free hand to stroke his long beard. ¡°The dwarf?¡± ¡°Yeah!¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°The one with all those dirty elf magazines?¡± Hero hesitates. ¡°¡­Y-¡­yeah.¡± The elder¡¯s gaze sharpens to a knife-point. ¡°I suppose I could part with the healing spell, that ancient, sacred knowledge, but only to one who is both pure of heart, and strong of wit.¡± ¡°O-okay.¡± ¡°Have you ever told a lie?¡± Hero thinks back to his early memories, but then realizes he couldn¡¯t talk. ¡°No,¡± Hero says honestly, if impatiently. The elder nods, his gaze unmoving from Hero¡¯s bright blue eyes. ¡°Have you ever touched a girl¡¯s bottomly rumpus without permission from her father?¡± he asks with an official, no nonsense tone. Hero draws back. ¡°No, elder, but you need to understand this is a life or death situatio-¡± ¡°You are truly pure of heart. And now the test of wit,¡± The elder says as he waves the scroll with the healing spell about in Hero¡¯s face condescendingly. Truly, the only thing Hero is feeling tested on is patience. ¡°What is the airspeed of a¡­¡± The elder¡¯s riddle begins; a long, winding verse wrought from the very deepest archives of mystic knowledge. Hero shakes his head. He hasn¡¯t the time for this. ¡°Give me the scroll,¡± Hero says, interrupting the elder¡¯s riddle as he reaches to snatch the scroll from the old geezer. Shirking away with surprising speed, the elder guffaws pretentiously. ¡°You dare demand from me, young man? I will teach you what it means to be proper in my own day and a-¡± The old man¡¯s lesson is promptly cut short when Hero smashes his fist into the elder¡¯s crusty face; didn¡¯t see that one coming. A ¡°stun!¡± pops over the elder¡¯s head as he plops to the floor and buckles over in unconsciousness and probably other quite serious old-person problems. Hero takes up the scroll:
You looted: Scroll of Lesser Healing!
Without pause, Hero flees out the open doorway back into the warm night air, rushing forward with every effort to save his father, and the town. Log in, Knight-Hero! Part 3 The moment he reaches the burning side of the village, it¡¯s clear that the place has been well-evacuated. There¡¯s not a cry to be heard, but he knows there¡¯s someone still there. Braving the risk of the still-oncoming arrows, piercing out from the dense clouds like infernal nails, he ducks behind the smithy and into the door to his home. Thankfully the fires have not yet overtaken the abode, and his father is still in the spot where he fell, pressing a rag around the wound to help staunch the flow of blood. ¡°Hero!¡± He cries, ¡°About fucking time!¡± The lad rushes to his side and he unfolds the scroll. It¡¯s of a weird, arcane script in a language that he cannot read, yet can understand perfectly. As if the words themselves reach out to his mind to influence him, Hero takes a deep breath to begin the spell. ¡°Ten out of ten, would bang!¡± Hero says, unsure what the words mean in that old language, but certain they are of a deep, sacred meaning, probably an excerpt from a holy text. At once, the blue bar upon Hero¡¯s H.U.D. drains a little past halfway ¡ª so that¡¯s what that thing is, a magic gauge!
You learned: Lesser Healing!
A soft glow emits from the scroll and attaches to Hero¡¯s hands. He wastes no time in applying his hands to his father¡¯s wound as he slowly, gently retrieves the arrow from his chest. ¡°Tha-¡­ Thanks, lad,¡± The blacksmith says, wincing as the arrow head is fished out successfully. ¡°You can¡¯t leave yet, father, you still have to teach me how to talk to girls,¡± Hero says plainly. The two share a frank laugh, both quite aware of the great din of the approaching horde. ¡°I¡¯m going to hide out here, Hero. But your chances are better if you just run.¡± Hero¡¯s gaze is perplexed, edging into horror. ¡°What are you saying?¡± The dwarf smirks. ¡°I¡¯m saying those fuckers would catch me. I¡¯m not good to walk, so You¡¯re going to have to¡­ you know, run.¡± Hero¡¯s not sure about much in his life, why he has a H.U.D., or how the healing spell¡¯s incantation suddenly registered to his until-now empty spell list, but one thing is for sure. This man is his father, and he would do anything for him.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Also,¡± his father says with an awkward gaze aside, ¡°It¡¯s time you knew, I¡¯m not your real dad.¡± Hero draws back in enormous shock. Impossible! How could this be?! ¡°No¡­ no you are my father!¡± The dwarf scoffs. ¡°I¡¯m a dwarf you daft idiot! If you were my son you¡¯d be a total manlet!¡± Hero¡¯s seen them before, those unholy midget-man abominations between four foot ten inches and five feet ten inches. Thankfully at a strong 6¡¯3, Hero¡¯s never had to deal with their sort, but this doesn¡¯t make him feel any better. ¡°No, that doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Hero says. The blacksmith laughs morbidly as the screech of an undead soldier can be heard as it rushes down the near side of the village. ¡°It¡¯s not important, just get out of here.¡± There¡¯s a pause, and Hero stays arched over the dwarf with a serious gaze. ¡°Go, you stupid asshole! You¡¯re going to die!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care if I die. Right now you¡¯re the only thing that¡¯s real to me, and I¡¯m not leaving you,¡± Hero says, just before taking to his feet and turning to look through the broken window. They¡¯re here. Hero¡¯s ¡°Father¡± sits quietly in his pathetic heap for a moment as he looks over the young lad he took in all those years ago, and after a moment, comes to an understanding nod. ¡°Give ¡®em hell. Show those maggoty fuckers just what my son¡¯s made of!¡± Hero looks to his father admiration and bravery, perfect traits for a true hero, before he turns for the door. ¡°I¡¯ll be back soon,¡± he says, taking up the dwarven short sword and buckler in preparation. The smith nods. ¡°Good luck.¡± At that, Hero charges out the door just as a tiny swirly symbol rotates on the bottom right section of his H.U.D., accompanied by the word: ¡°saving¡±. Just in time for their arrival, he comes face to face with his enemies. Amidst the fog of war and fire, they step forward in lazy, shambling ranks. Disgusting monstrosities of human and animal flesh, metal, and plant fiber ¡ª anything to hold them together. Hero brandishes his blade at the massive silhouette of the enemy force, and just as quickly takes a stroking bolt from one of the enemy¡¯s crossbows. An immense ¡°284¡± pops over his head, and he reels upon the grass, his blood gushing from his carotid artery and producing a steady ¡°14¡± damage per second thanks to [bleed]. Hero convulses as the wound runs blood from his artery into his airway, dually causing the [choking] and [silence] effects. Breath after breath simply ushers more blood into his lungs as his body at once gasps for air and dooms itself by filling his bronchioles with his sanguine viscera. His HP threshold runs down in but seconds, and once it crosses that ¡°0¡± line, he falls limp, and feels eternity reach out to him as his vision blurs out into a messy, grey-white blindness. Only his H.U.D. is still visible, updating his console chat tab with a single, damning message:
You died.
Take it easy, Knight-Hero! Part 1 Upon the breast of you universe, Hero becomes aware of a voice; not the audible kind, but certainly something he can hear clearly. ¡°Well well, look who got offed a bit too quickly~,¡± a transcendent, beautiful, feminine voice speaks out through the cosmos. Hero is still aware of his H.U.D., and his status-targeting tool abruptly selects someone. The character portrait of ¡°The High Goddess Rondi¡± appears alongside the interface tool¡¯s stat screen. Her portrait is of a N/A placeholder image, but she¡¯s level infinity, denoted by the symbol next to her uninspectable status screen. The entire H.U.D.¡¯s center space fills the immortal blackness with extravagant white text displaying her name, emphasizing the immensity of her greatness. ¡°I¡¯m¡­dead?¡± Hero¡¯s consciousness speaks out. ¡°You certainly are, young man. A bit too early for my tastes. I¡¯ve seen your effort to defeat those fiends despite the enormous risk to your own life, and I think you have what it takes.¡± ¡°I¡­ I do?¡± A sultry coo from Rondi vibrates Hero to his very core. ¡°That¡¯s right. You didn¡¯t back down to ensure your father¡¯s safety. I like that.¡± A surge of pride rushes through Hero. ¡°Well, it was nothing, really. I¡¯m just happy to help is all, and my father is precious to me!¡± ¡°Ahh! You¡¯re a delightful human. A real go-getter, and a good person, too. Perhaps I could grant you a wish.¡± ¡°I want my father to be safe! Please, goddess!¡± Hero requests without missing a beat. He feels her breath all along his spirit, as if she¡¯s some massive, overwhelming entity looming over him.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Is that all you want?¡± Rondi asks with a coy tone. ¡°I think I might have a suggestion, if you¡¯d be willing to listen the one and only True Goddess, that is~.¡± Only a fool would have her silenced, of course. ¡°Please, what is your wisdom, my goddess?¡± Hero asks with the utmost of humility. ¡°Mmm, enter a contract with me. Step into my service and kill my enemies, and not only will I give you the means to save your father, I will bring you back to life this one time as a young man without measure, amazing in all regards.¡± For a moment, Hero wonders just why the ¡°only True Goddess¡± would need a mortal to bring out her will. If there is not competition to her, then why would she need him? It is a very dangerous, but ultimately very helpful thought for him, but right now he sees no reason to turn her down; life is life, after all. ¡°Alright! I agree!¡± Rondi hums pleasantly as right away Hero feels his entirety being reincorporated into a mortal coil. Breath fills him and his nerves hail his physical brain once more. ¡°Very well, Hero,¡± the goddess says as his vision steadily returns in a blinding, holy light. ¡°Live your life in glory and show all my power through you. I¡¯ll disregard that broken save mechanic and just start you off back in the persistent world; wouldn¡¯t want to mess up the timeline or anything¡­. Lastly, beware the ones that speak of ether, those that look human but are not, and most of all the four-eyed analyst, for he will not rest until you have been slain¡­ Oh! And you need to get combat exp first before the level up triggers, it¡¯s just the way the game¡¯s made thanks to those lazy devs~.¡± Hero nods in his last moments before fully returning to the waking world. He has no idea what she means by ¡°ether¡±, ¡°exp¡±, or ¡°devs¡±, but he¡¯s certain all will be clear in time. His next sight is from his H.U.D., again displaying a set of console messages:
You have been resurrected by admin frame ¡°Rondi¡± 01.
Your faction as been set to [Ascended Rondian].
You have gained 593201894284821832732173284787927482791873 passive exp.
Take it easy, Knight-Hero! Part 2 Hero awakens, his wounds healed and gone, but he does not move from his dying spot. He¡¯s been in a couple of fights in his eighteen years of life, usually pacifying rowdy drunks and defending against bullies from the local boyhood gang. He knows well enough that all that passive exp, from things like exercising, cooking, reading and more, would fill the golden bar at the bottom of his H.U.D.. Usually it fills slowly, a steady trickle week by week, but there are those very developmental times in a person¡¯s life that tells Hero that there will be an impact on him. Once he got chased by a boar when hunting alone, got a tusk in his leg and all he could grab was a rock to fight back, that pushed him from the start of 11 to the middle of 12 in a single day. He also took home a boar so big the whole town wouldn''t shut up about it for the rest of the month. All of that is well and good up to his current level of thirteen, but the exp spike is so high from 13 > 14 that it¡¯s practically double the 12 > 13 amount. No more. His exp bar is filled all the way to gold, and the left margin of its digit has overtaken the entirety of the bar. All he needs is to seal the deal with a combat kill. Usually he¡¯d level up unexpectedly by stepping on a bug, or successfully catching a fish. This time, he¡¯s going to get it quite on purpose. As the mindless undead bastardizations lumber from house to house, looting and searching for the living, Hero tightens his sinew in preparation for instant, fatal movement. He knows he only has one shot, so his timing must be perfect. In only half a minute, he spots his mark: It¡¯s a smaller undead, once a child, good for little more in combat than being the trigger behind a crossbow set for it by its larger companions. That¡¯s the one. If he can strike it unawares, he¡¯ll grab that sweet 5X crit bonus, an attack multiplier that puts all but head-shots to shame. He remembers the day as a younger lad when he¡¯d sneak up on his classmates and flick them just to see that glorious ¡°5X Critical!¡± text pop over their head accompanied by a harmless ¡°0¡±. That said, it won¡¯t matter how high a level this undead is, there¡¯s no way it would survive if he does the same thing, but with his sword. As the husk of a boy stumbles along at the back of the now-loose raiding formation, Hero bates his breath and stills his heart in vicious preparation.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. ¡­now! Expending a thick chunk of his stamina bar, Hero leaps up from the ground with sword in hand, looming over the small undead and ready for the death stroke. In what the undead boy lacks in STR, it more than makes up for with INT. As if neigh-psychic, the undead reflexively turns its loaded crossbow at Hero and pulls. In a deft, blink-fast DEX check, Hero holds up his buckler to absorb the shot before striking down. The undead lifts its crossbow up at the last moment to block the brunt of the strike, reducing Hero¡¯s mighty blow to a minor cut and no bleed due to the [undead] life status. As the undead also expected the attack, Hero didn¡¯t gain the crit bonus, thus leading to a trash-mob tally of only 29 damage out from the undead¡¯s 138 total. No sooner does the land his weak hit does the entire raiding party turn his way. Weapons are raised as Hero dips in for another strike at projectiles fling his way. The readied undead boy shoves back furiously with his crossbow, again blunting Hero¡¯s strike and delivering an even less-exceptional 12 damage to the undead¡¯s arm. Hero draws back to regain his bearings just as an arrow flies into his side. Hero buckles into the pain, he doesn¡¯t even see the damage annotation over his head, but his console says 122, about half of his total of 350, along with a minor [bleed] of 3 per second. He can¡¯t take this risk. Hero barrels back into his home amidst a wild volley of arrows, a couple grazing him for 12 and 15 and both attributing a [light bleed] each. He barely makes it inside before the door is filled with projectiles. He slams down the door¡¯s bar lock, painting it over with his own blood. Hero piles one piece of furnishing after another to block off the door just as one of the undead slams its shield through the nearby window. Hero readies his sword to weigh into his enemy¡¯s arm, but thinks better of it the second he sees the spear man undead directly next to the shield-bearer, ready to lunge through the opening to get to Hero. Hero realizes he needs to be smarter than this. He backs away and out of the pitch of the window as the undead steadily pound against the blocked door. His father is in the other room, watching in horror as his orphan-found son bleeds along the floor. The old dwarf starts to his feet. ¡°Ten out of ten, would bang!¡± Hero cries, pulling [lesser healing] from his immediate memory and bathing himself in a holy light. Thankfully his HP wasn¡¯t the only thing restored by Rondi¡¯s resurrection. The longer he holds the cast, the more it heals. Before long the green numbers stop jumping as his HP maxes out and his bleed stacks are removed. No sooner does he top off that an undead smashed far enough through the entry door to create a shot-opening, and who would be the shooter but that little bastard himself? The small undead looses a bolt into Hero¡¯s direction, but it doesn¡¯t touch him. Hero jolts in the blink fast move of his father, vaulting into the opening just as the bolt flies into him. ¡°You... idiot!¡± Hero snaps as he leans in and pulls his dad over out of the opening¡¯s pitch. ¡°You should¡¯ve listened to me, you dumbass kid.¡± The dwarf winces as his dark brown beard bristles in a grimace. ¡°Now we¡¯re both fucked.¡± Take it easy, Knight-Hero! Part 3 Hero looks over his father with his inspection tool, he¡¯ll survive, but not if he gets hit again. ¡°You need to stay down. I¡¯m going to-¡± Hero stops the second the opening is smashed in a little more, almost providing enough space for some smaller undead to slip through. At the same moment the window breaks from the kitchen behind them. That window is definitely large enough to accommodate a body. As Hero¡¯s lost in terrified thought, his father pushes him forward. ¡°Get to my room. It¡¯s the best in the house for this sort of thing.¡± Hero doesn¡¯t question it and pulls his father to his room, lit by only a small, barred window from high up. ¡°It¡¯ll buy us a little time,¡± his father says as Hero stacks the dwarf¡¯s book case of naughty elf magazines against the door. ¡°But what do we do?¡± The dwarf, slouched against the wall, crosses his arms as if he were about to give Hero another one of his ¡°elf magazines are only for true men¡± lectures, but his expression is dismal, sad¡­ almost a little proud. ¡°Hero, nothing we do can stop them from getting in here. I¡¯m just a blacksmith of common weapons, and you¡¯re just a lad who couldn¡¯t speak. I think you and I need to come to terms with the fact we¡¯re not getting out of this one alive.¡± Hero stares blankly at his father with complete horror. Hero knows how he could survive if it came to that, but he¡¯d never do that, never. All Hero needs is to kill something, anything or anyone, and all that passive exp will crash into his spirit like a collision of planets. ¡°All I¡­¡± Hero clears his throat as he hears the undead horde shamble in unison to the final door as they break in from all sides of the house. ¡°All I need is to kill one of them.¡± His father, looking up at him with a pathetic smile, nods, not in understanding but in admiration of his son¡¯s manly spirit. ¡°Hell yeah, son. Get one. Then it¡¯ll be worth it, ah, shit!¡± The dwarf winces again as an inconspicuous [lesser bleed] gets applied. ¡°I moved too fast, opened it back up,¡± he adds as he presses his hand into his side. Hero watches in horror as the bleed ticks from [lesser bleed] to [bleed]. ¡°What¡¯s going on?!¡± Hero exclaims as the undead get to their door and begin to smash against it. ¡°I¡¯m bleeding to death, dammit!¡± The smith scoffs with a large grin on his face as he looks to the door. ¡°Not that I¡¯m gonna be living much longer anyway. Hey, Hero. You were a good kid.¡± Hero presses deep into his father¡¯s wound with a nearby blanket, but the status effect isn¡¯t going away. ¡°What is happening! Why¡¯s your HP still dropping?¡± As ¡°5¡± after ¡°5¡± leaps over his father¡¯s head in a cartoon, excitable fashion, the dwarf lets out a long, calm sigh. ¡°It¡¯s internal bleeding, boy. My insides are what¡¯s fucking me up.¡± Hero watches in horror as his father¡¯s HP bar strikes down to a tenth of his total. ¡°No, no I won¡¯t let you di-¡± Overwhelmed with tears, he stops himself as he realizes this may be his only chance. If he even flicked his pa for one damage, he would get passive combat exp once he died. He could rise up and kill the undead as a level whatever badass bent on vengeance¡­ and yet, there¡¯s a part of Hero that won¡¯t allow that. He¡¯s too great to lower himself to that level, surely. The young man¡¯s eyes well up with tears as the undead smash the door¡¯s barricade open centimeter by centimeter; this is it.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Deep inside him, Hero asks himself what kind of man he wants to be, and whether or not he¡¯s willing to live with the thought of having had a hand in his father¡¯s death, being hopeless to save him, or dying alongside him, and wasting his chance. As everything collapses around Hero, his father takes another, pained breath. ¡°When it¡¯s all going to shit, the only thing you can keep clean is yourself. You be my legs, and I¡¯ll be yours, kiddo. Let¡¯s die together unafraid, alright?¡± He says. Hero pauses in thought. His dad¡¯s words have a powerful effect on him, but not in the intended way. Hero¡¯s boyish gaze dies out to display the face of a determined man, one who looks up to the door piling heavy with undead, and tells himself: ¡°I¡¯m going to grind some mobs¡±. He takes a stand and readies his sword as he gets into position, but first, he needs to position his father as well. The dwarf flinches as Hero drags him to a very specific corner of the room. ¡°Fuck you doin¡¯, kid?¡± ¡°Creating a distraction,¡± he says, handing his father a pillow as Hero reaches for the arrow in his side. Hero takes a deep breath, grits his teeth, and pulls the arrow from himself, reopening his [bleed]. ¡°The fuck you doin¡¯?!¡± The dwarf reiterates in a weirded out tone. Hero doesn¡¯t respond, he just gets ready. In but seconds, the door finally creaks fully under the undead squadron¡¯s massive weight, pushing the door down and splintering it to pieces. Laid plain at the end of the room is a wounded dwarf, gripping his limp son, either unconscious or dead. As the horse slowly, savoringly spills into the room in anticipation, they look over the arrow wound of the young man, buckler loose on the floor next to the two. Undead were never the brightest, especially not the high STA, low INT run-of-the-mill-sort. The very moment the front-most undead raises its chipped, rusted axe to lay waste to Hero¡¯s father, the a faint drop of blood falls atop the back-most undead¡¯s helmet. *tap* goes the drop, just as Hero, holding himself high in the narrow room with the sheer force of his waning strength, drops and readies his blade with a rigid, venomous scowl. The critical hit text leaps like the flag of a victorious army over the undead¡¯s head, lopping a huge 586 over it before crippling the husk into a pile of flesh and bone. No sooner does the husk hit the floor does Hero¡¯s screen radiate with miles of text:
Hero has leveled up from level 13 to level 14!
Hero has leveled up from level 13 to level 15!
Hero can now progress a job cell!
Hero can now learn mount riding!
Hero can now use the auction house!
Hero can now join a guild!
Hero can now own property!
Hero has leveled up from level 15 to level 16!
Hero has leveled up from level 16 to level 17!
On and on, seemingly neverending as it scrolls rapidly across his screen in the blink of an eye. Amidst the confusion and turmoil as all of the undead rail their weapons against Hero, his eyes rest on his upper left character tooltip: Hero - Level 5,000,000 HP - 4999999999992843/5000000000000000 MP - 4999999999999950/5000000000000000 Aside from that glorious, unbelievable sight of his exp bar being maxed to full, he too can hear his father¡¯s dying breaths. He¡¯s decided now. Hero¡¯s going to be a legend, and legends do not allow the insult of death to those they love. Awaken, Knight-Hero! Part 1 As the undead force wails against Hero¡¯s body with dozens of once-fatal strikes every moment, Hero¡¯s vision is a strolling, golden, beautiful monstrosity. All at once upon him is the result of a thousand years of intense grinding, the power spoken of in the most elite message boards in all the land. Until now, Hero¡¯s world was assumed to have no level cap - turns out he¡¯s the second to reach it. Xing out of box after box telling him how many ridiculous magic trees he can get into, and stat points he has ready, and expansion content he can now access, Hero¡¯s gaze steadily clears out to see his father, just a small, 1x1 pixel box from his blinding H.U.D., he knows he doesn¡¯t have enough time. Hero mentally slams on the tab key in rapid succession. He doesn¡¯t know what it is or how it works, but it¡¯s pretty helpful when you¡¯re out fishing and you want to know where to cast the line. After tabbing through the enemies, he shakes his head in the realization that he¡¯s using the wrong command. He smacks ctrl+tab a single time to bring up his father, with 12 HP remaining. ¡°Ten out of ten, would bang!¡± Hero cries as he struggles forward with a leap. Hero¡¯s hands light aglow, and he lays on hands just in time. Hero bears the brunt of violence from the mindless undead horde as squad after squad pours in. Hero buckles into the corner to protect his father, positioned on the inner part as Hero slams as many stat points as he can into STR. Of course, without an END, the undead¡¯s strikes are like they always were, painful, gutting, and easily wounding. Hero receives stack after stack of [bleed] as from his body pops damage numbers that he¡¯s only seen trees take without falling. 12392, 12421, 12458, and onward due to his dozens upon dozens of bleed stacks, all oozing profusely and covering Hero¡¯s backside with decided, voluminous amounts of blood. Hero spends point after point in his stat pool in STR, until he hits 100, at least thirty level up¡¯s and two job advancements of just STR. It¡¯s time, but he¡¯ll keep pouring more in. In a blink-fast swing, Hero turns back and slashes at his aggressors. Without ceremony, his weak sword shatters instantly as it fully separates the entire front-crowd of undead.Ludicrously-high damage numbers with the mantling text of ¡°OVERKILL¡± fills his vision from the obliterated bodies of his enemies. What would have been two levels worth of combat experience to him a minute ago is now fully unregistered as 0 exp each time. Hero realizes he¡¯s going to hit the upper limit. He can¡¯t be stopped now. Hero tosses aside the now-broken sword as the undead horde reels back in defense, suddenly sobered from their violent trance. The dozens look to their right, upon the mass splattering of undead bodies, draped against the wall, and back to Hero, bloody, but somehow so meaninglessly damaged he carries himself as if he were entirely unharmed. The young lad stands erect and fearless, even as gallon after gallon of his blood pours from his wounds. Apparently HP has a direct correlation to a person¡¯s blood, and Hero doesn¡¯t mind that one bit.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. With a start, he leans forward with his fist held high, causing the forming shield wall of undead to brace for impact. Hero scoffs as he sees his enemies reel back now that they know what he¡¯s capable of. What they¡¯re unaware of is that Hero¡¯s been pouring more and more of his millions of stat points into STR. Right before hitting 900 STR, Hero passes the highest STR stat of every berserker-class player in all of Aydoss. Hero leaps forward with all the fury of a man on the brink, though now that couldn¡¯t be further from the truth. He slams his fist into the shield wall as he continues to smash more and more STR into his stat build. The shields do not simply fail, it¡¯s as if the undead were attempting to stop a train. Dozens fly back, tearing sheerly through the wall behind them as the front-most group is utterly vaporized by Hero¡¯s strike. Unarmed and without combat bonuses to speak of, Hero¡¯s power still questions that of a dragon¡¯s. He winds up again and sweeps his fist through the crowd, meshing undead flesh and rusted mail together in embarrassing raw heaps of genetic material, iron and gore. As his father looks on in complete disbelief, Hero lays waste to the group of thirty in the room with hysterical ease, their plate-armored bodies seeming to repel instantly on contact with Hero¡¯s strikes. Once cleared out, the undeads do not return, rather Hero can see them edging out of the house. ¡°Not so fast, you bastards!¡± Hero shouts as he swaps putting his points in STR for DEX. As every second he gains five points or more, his quick, athletic sprint rivals a horse at full gallop, then a sprinting cheetah, then a diving falcon. In a blink, Hero is upon the retreating undead, slashing through their entireties of mystic flesh and decrepit armor like a heated knife into butter- they don¡¯t simply get slashed, rather are mechanically separated from the ridiculous force of his strikes, sending a dozen into tangled heaps with every movement for them. All throughout he ups his DEX more and more, gaining ridiculous amounts of speed when unburdened by armor of any kind. Like a bolt of maverick light, Hero smashes and crashes into crowd after crowd of undead, eviscerating them with his fists. The weight and speed behind his strikes are so great, and the contact point of his fists are so small, that any strike sends them flying in a half-crushed mess of internally-hemorrhaged gore. He fights on and on and on until the undead pull out of the village entirely in a full retreat, moving up to the long hillside where they had begun their assault. All throughout their escape, Hero doesn¡¯t let up, throwing all his weight into his punches again and again as he spills them across the countryside in wild, viper-fast punches. At the top of the hill, Hero finally spots an individual, taller than the rest and made taller still by the sizable undead steed it rides upon. Its obsidian-fire gaze is fully focused on the human. Awaken, Knight-Hero! Part 2 Hero stops his rampage to address the enemy commander. ¡°Who are you?¡± Hero shouts up the hill. For a moment, there is not response as the undead army flees up to their master and creates staggered, dense ranks- more of a meat-shield than a combat formation. ¡°I am death, but perhaps that is what you are as well,¡± the armored lich speaks out with a voice like scraping ancient coal against the rocks of a deep cavern. ¡°What are you, human?¡± Hero ridges forward. ¡°I¡¯m a hero!¡± He says bluntly, winning a barking guffaw from the undead army, and a sensible scoff from the lich. Hero feels like he could have handled that a little better. ¡°How very¡­ noble of you,¡± the lich says with a tone of veiled insult. Hero stops slamming points into DEX and next starts sinking points into CHA. Unlike the two previous stats, Hero can feel this one immediately- the confidence, the clarity. He feels himself change as a person, and at first he¡¯s scared, but once he passes the 100 CHA mark and upwards, he realizes that he¡¯s far too certain of reasons to stray from a glorious path like this; it¡¯s only natural for a servant of The Goddess to be this way. ¡°I suppose this is the part where you fall on your knees and beg for mercy.¡± At 134 CHA, Hero takes a breath. ¡°And what benefit would I derive from lowering myself to inferiority?¡± He didn¡¯t even need to think; it just came out that way. The lich draws back as its undead minions look its way with expectation. ¡°Well¡­ you know¡­¡± the lich starts awkwardly. ¡°It would really be nice of you to swear your fealty to me. It¡¯s quite clear you¡¯re much stronger than my undead servants, so perhaps instead of killing you, perhaps you would like to become my vassal?¡± Now at the brim of 300 CHA, Hero¡¯s gaze is as sharp as a knife. ¡°What knowing man would make himself subservient to that which is his very inequity?¡± Hero starts with a calm tone. The Lich starts sweating black, cold blood. ¡°Truly, in what station of life can mankind find himself in other than that which was provided for him in the means of nature? Man must be, naturally, the very antithesis to the problems of his world, without the reveler¡¯s wasting of time or the fatalist¡¯s tears. Stoically he must march on throu-¡± ¡°Okay, I get your point,¡± the lich says, massaging his forehead stressfully. ¡°In that, you could not truly understand that I, as a part of the cosmic whole, cannot lower myself to the will of a materially-focused indiv-¡± ¡°Kid, please!¡± the lich says in disgust as his undead army riles in irritation. ¡°We¡¯re all very impressed! You can stop now!¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Hero has a feeling that there¡¯s a more effective form of charisma he could be using, but he¡¯s still an awkward teen, and has never seen anime, so he¡¯s not quite aware of the ¡°dramatic pre-fight monologue¡± form yet. ¡°Fine,¡± Hero says, ¡°regardless, I¡¯m going to send you and your army away to the mortuary, unless of course you¡¯d want walk there yourselves,¡± he says with the slightest reckonings of a smile as he holds his combat stance. Hero¡¯s not sure what to spill points into next. He decides on LCK. The lich growls with a scraping tone. ¡°Not happening, hero. I¡¯m here for bodies to bolster the Scaled God¡¯s army.¡± Hero squint an eye. ¡°The Scaled God? Tell me of this deity.¡± The lich scoffs amidst a nervous laugh from the undead army. ¡°The Scaled God is Mountainous Exeranoth, the greatest of all dragons of any world, and the one true master of Aydoss. He has waged war on the human kingdoms and will not rest until your kind has been struck from this world.¡± Hero shakes his head as his LCK surpasses 240. ¡°Take me to him and I will spare you.¡± The lich¡¯s glowing eyes flare up with ambition. ¡°Oh¡­ we¡¯ll be taking you along, all right. Come forward,¡± it says as it raises its four hands up to charge powerful, occult magic of a darkness that Hero is still not quite privy to. ¡°Step up so I can target you, cowardly boy,¡± the lich adds. Hero finally realizes that he¡¯s just a couple steps out of the Lich¡¯s inspect range, because he can¡¯t inspect it either. Hero¡¯s never been targeted by an offensive spell before, so what he fails to understand is that direct target spells only work if you can target the person you want to harm. Without pause, Hero steps forward two steps and both parties inspect the other. Immediately the Lich flinches in horror, and its steed nearly turns from its master¡¯s reaction. ¡°What¡­ what are you?¡± The powerful necromancer asks. Hero inspects his foe¡¯s level: 488, the highest he¡¯s ever seen, before himself, that is. ¡°I¡¯m the hero, you ignorant pile of bones,¡± Hero draws back his head with an animate flick like a high school drop out. ¡°You were saying you were bringing me along?¡± Hero spots an annotation over the Lich¡¯s head, [Master Analysis] it reads. Steadily, a grin passes across the Lich¡¯s decrepit guise. ¡°Well, you are an interesting one, aren¡¯t you? How did you hit that level, young man?¡± It says as it activates an aura called [Channeler+++] ¡°I¡¯m not inclined to explain myself to living refuse.¡± The Lich cackles as its magical flames blaze high in each of its four hands. ¡°Perhaps I could persuade you with a bit of mind control?¡± It throws its high right hand forward, casting [Hail Mind+++] on Hero, who notices the annotation pop over his head as well, but in the red text color of the target rather than the gold color text of the caster. Hero shrugs with full confidence as the Lich channels its black magic. ¡°You¡¯re going to have to do more than that to oust me, necromancer,¡± Hero says, ironically the same moment his gaze travels over to a new message set in his chat box:
Necromancer Agoz casts [Hail Mind+++]
Hero fails to resist! (INT 12 VS INT 653)
Necromancer Agoz has successfully hailed Hero!
Now for some reason, Hero can¡¯t quite move himself. As if his brain¡¯s been suddenly cut from his body. ¡°Wh-what is this?!¡± Hero asks, trembling senselessly. Agoz¡¯s skeletal grin ushers forth a slew of rustled insects to crawl about its face. ¡°Magic, of course, not that you¡¯d know about that sort of thing with only 12 INT. Like really, dude. That¡¯s so pathetic I can¡¯t even imagine, not that it matters anymore.¡± Immediately Hero starts piling his points into INT. What a fool he was to expect a limitless body to do everything for him when his mind is even more important. Damn, Knight-Hero... Youre dumb! The lich rests its holed cheek into one of its hands as it scoffs at the frozen Hero. ¡°Perhaps a bit of attitude correction is in order,¡± it says just as Hero feels his blood rise up and his muscles move against his will. Amidst the howling celebration from his undead enemies, Hero feels his own body rear in preparation. His right hand curls into a sharp fist as his arm draws back to his side. In a flash, Hero smashes himself on the side of the face, causing a hideous blow, breaking his jaw and smashing a huge amount of crit damage. Of course, Hero is aware that he¡¯s getting hit, but because he can¡¯t protect against it at all, it counts as a crit. Even with all his force slamming against him, his STR is nothing in comparison to his 5,000,000 levels of experience and HP. The lich watches with a pleased smirk as Hero continues to hit himself, dealing damage that would instantly kill most beings in Aydoss, but doing but needles and hair¡¯s worth of damage to his HP gauge. Hero keeps putting points in INT, but it still isn¡¯t enough to resist the channel. After watching the Hero smash his face through about five percent of his HP, the Lich looses a lazy yawn. ¡°I have a better idea¡­ faster,¡± the lich says, right before waving its high left hand about mystically. Hero suddenly stops, and stops breathing, as well. Hero can¡¯t speak, as the lich has taken control of even that vital survival process, and in only seconds Hero can feel his body waiting for air. As the crowd of undead laugh in full derision to his predicament, Hero weighs his options as his quickly-draining air gauge pops up on his H.U.D.. He¡¯s now at 304 INT, but there¡¯s no guarantee it¡¯ll save him even if he can match the lich¡¯s INT score on time. No, there¡¯s nothing he can do with stats, nothing will save him from the 3% total dps from oxygen loss. He needs to look into his skill tree. With roughly forty seconds before he loses his air and starts to black out, Hero frantically looks over the different class choices in the enormous free-style class screen. More importantly, he scrolls to the top of the screen to see if there¡¯s any high level skills that¡¯ll get him out of this bind. The shitty part of all this is that there¡¯s so many skills he can potentially unlock, and none of the trees show up until level fifteen, so he¡¯s utterly clueless as to what class gives what skill.Stolen novel; please report. His first guess is wizard. He scrolls up and down from the destruction and arcanist trees until he stumbles upon the alteration tree. He spots spells for increasing his weight-carrying load, his physical speed by impressive multipliers, and all manner of other boon, until he spots one mid-way up. [Endless Breathing] is the name, with a description of ¡°Fills the lungs with empty air, allowing for oxygenation in all terrains.¡± It¡¯s exactly what he needs. Without hesitation, Hero begins spending all his points in the wizard tree moving up skill-by-skill to the alteration tree. He clicks away all the stupid text boxes for job advancement quests and dumb non-essential wizard lore, only to have the tree gray out on him in at a fourth of his lung capacity. Why? He looks through the stupid pop ups as he struggles for air, finally finding a damning lvl 30 note.
As your quest for arcane power continues, you realize you¡¯ve reached your peak. You must talk to Spiritcaller Tha¡¯Le in Lapaya City to progress to the next trees.
Of course, it would be a quest requirement that kills him. Even though he has all the raw power he needs, he was lacking all the important unlocks to actually use those abilities. Hero turns a ghostly pale, much to the amusement of the lich and its dark brigade of undead soldiers. He needs to think fast. What else can he do?! The frozen-stiff lad frantically waves his mental cursor over skill tree after skill tree, looking for any ability or spell in the level 15-30 range that would save him from such a pathetic death. Ultimately, he finds nothing, and his air runs dry. As the ¡°3%¡± annotations pop over his head by the second, Hero nearly gives up, until he notices there¡¯s not only class skills that have been opened up to him. He swaps his tab to the general abilities tree. Stuff like mount-summoning or blacksmithing; stuff any player would have regardless of class. He scrolls and searches frantically, his lungs feeling like they¡¯re steadily imploding on him, and then he finds it: [Worldbait] - lvl 500 required: Provide an instant summoning circle to any player that has you on their kill list. A thrilling challenge for only the most daring of seasoned players! (Cast time:0.00 seconds. Cast state: Any.) Hero steels himself, and invests the ten skill points required to learn the skill. In a flash he activates it and a summoning circle burns out viciously no more than twenty meters from him. The lich scoffs. ¡°Look at you with all your INT. What demon could you possibly be summoning that I¡¯d-¡± As the boy¡¯s hearing fades out, a blinding flash of light erupts from his mentally-placed summoning circle. He can¡¯t hear, or see, but he¡¯s definitely aware of a heavy gust of wind, and a great heat near him, lasting only a moment. ¡°Goddess¡­ Rondi, can you hear me?¡± Hero asks as he watches his H.U.D.¡¯s HP trickle down 3% at a time. ¡­Silence. At 20% hp of his millions, Hero thinks to look for another spell, but thinks better of it. There¡¯s nothing he can do in the seven seconds it would take to kill him. He waits in a silent horror as he watches his HP: 9%¡­ 6%¡­ 3%¡­ And then, he falls over, not in death¡¯s cold embrace, but because the lich is no longer hailing his mind. Careful, Knight-Hero; this guy looks like a huge nerd! In a verged struggle for consciousness, Hero steadily pulls himself back breath after breath. The whites become grays, and the grays gain volume and depth as his sight readjusts. Just in time, he see a crippled lich amidst piles upon piles of its minions, and a figure, floating meters overhead. Hero can¡¯t quite make it out, but whatever the figure is, it has four gazing, glowing eyes. Hero targets it as quickly as he can, but the figure is not only uninspectable, it¡¯s untargetable, as if it weren¡¯t even a world asset. ¡°P-p-p-¡± the lich trembles in disbelief as it tosses spell after spell at the cloaked figure. ¡°Please, have mercy!¡± The figure reaches into its flowing cloak, as black and majestic as a midnight¡¯s sky, and pulls out a small, weirdly cozy-looking canteen, clashing instantly with the figure¡¯s insidious composure. ¡°I have as much mercy for you and your kind as I have coffee, actually,¡± it says, its voice denoting a smooth, if squeaky, male tone; it¡¯s like a grown man who didn¡¯t quite drop all the way, Hero thinks. The lich joins his four hands together in praise. ¡°Oh, thank you!¡± he says as the figure begins unscrewing the top of his canteen. ¡°You are so¡­ so amazing! So kind! I will ser-¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s a shame,¡± the figure interrupts as it turns the canteen atop itself to pour out its empty contents. ¡°It seems I¡¯ve run out of coffee.¡± The lich smiles in awkward confusion. ¡°¡­What do yo-¡± In a flash, something floating above the figure¡¯s shoulder flashes, and there¡¯s a very distinct, high-pitched noise. In the next second, the lich is practically evaporated in front of the two, popping up a damage number so high, that Hero can¡¯t see the entire numeral in one glance of his H.U.D. - he actually has to look far to his right to see the rest of the number. Understandably, the lich fully ceases to exist after a strike like that, its entire being scattered to the cosmic winds. At that, the figure looks over to Hero. ¡°Well, hello there young man,¡± the figure says, floating over laxly as he puts away his canteen. Hero can get a better look at him, if not by his inspection tool, then at least by sight: The figure is masked, or at least very shiny, and appears to be wearing a rather cheap coat and tie under the midnight cloak. Floating chipperly over his right shoulder is a pure white, glowing¡­ box, thing, with a little, squarish eye. It floats up and down like its the figure¡¯s familiar pet, but it looks more like a cheesy paper craft than anything else. Pretty weird. ¡°Hello there,¡± Hero says, his eyes jutting between the obliterated necromancer and floating something-or-other. ¡°You seem a bit roughed up. You can heal, can¡¯t you?¡± Hero takes to his feet, unsure if it¡¯ll be the last thing he does. ¡°Ten out of ten, would bang!¡± The figure snorts in humor. ¡°Uh, what?¡± Hero asks as his HP slowly restores.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ¡°N¡­nothing,¡± the figure says. ¡°I come to understand you¡¯re somewhat of a hero around here, aren¡¯t you?¡± Hero readies for quick movement. ¡°¡­ That¡¯s¡­ my name, at least.¡± The floating figure and his little floating box looks over to the undead in the clearing. The tiny cube makes a high pitched, distinctively cute beeping sounds as it looks over to the figure in address. ¡°You¡¯re catching on,¡± the figure seems to say to the cube in a pleasant tone before turning back to Hero. ¡°I simply figured that was the case, seeing as you were trying to take on those undead and save your village.¡± Hero begins to relax. ¡°Yeah. I had to defend my father. He was trapped inside¡­ Shit!¡± Hero exclaims, turning and leaping at but 15% of his HP back to the homestead. The figure whistles as if impressed, seeing Hero nearly blink out. ¡°That¡¯s the one, alright,¡± the figure says between himself and the cube as the two watch Hero dash into his house. ¡°Target sighted~.¡± Back at the house, Hero swings around to find his father, breaking, but roughed up and unconscious. Hero smiles in relief, and easily places his heavy dad upon his bed; he weighs nothing to him now. ¡°Cute pop,¡± the figure says, floating over Hero¡¯s shoulder. Hero startles over in surprise. Even with his enormously-high stats, Hero didn¡¯t even hear him coming, as if he was simply ¡°inserted¡± into the room. ¡°Eh¡­ uh, thanks.¡± ¡°I assume he¡¯ll be okay? Not that I could do anything about that, you understand.¡± Hero shrugs, wondering if the figure really is implying that he can¡¯t use healing magic. ¡°Yeah, I got him,¡± Hero says as he recasts his healing spell to top off his father, winning another chuckle from the floating figure. ¡°So, I assume everyone else has left?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°The village, I mean.¡± Hero gets a rightfully-creepy vibe. ¡°They should be back any minute now that the invasion¡¯s ended¡­ that¡¯s weird.¡± As if expectantly, the figure hums. ¡°What is?¡± ¡°His HP, I can¡¯t max it out, it¡¯s missing one point.¡± The masked one sighs. ¡°Well, being cursed by the Dragon God, that¡¯s sort of to be expected.¡± ¡°Wh-what?¡± The figure clears his throat as if to quote an official text. ¡°The curse of Exeranoth, the greatest dragon of this world. Causes the victim¡¯s max HP to decline based on one percentile per hour.¡± Hero flinches and turns back to his father. Inspecting the dwarf, he only now notices the small status-effect box under the character portrait. The figure stares at Hero with his four, gleaming lenses. It descends to the floor so that it¡¯s standing upright. Hero looks over in mild surprise; the figure is way shorter than he thought, like 5¡¯5, or something - a manlet. ¡°I assume you¡¯d like to know more?¡± He removes his hood, revealing a shiny helmet, encompassing his entire skull. ¡°I know the cure, which I¡¯d imagine would be in your best interests as well.¡± Hero checks his own status effects. Sure enough, [Exeranoth¡¯s Gaze] is also on him, with a kill time of ninety nine hours to go. ¡°Tell me everything you know,¡± Hero says bluntly, instantly enthused with a hunger for dragon steaks. The figure hums. ¡°Frankly,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯m not all that interested in explaining all of this to you. The short of it is that this dragon¡¯s cursed you both, probably because you killed so many of his minions. The curse will kill you in roughly four days and four hours, unless you stop the curse.¡± Hero¡¯s eyes are clear in focus. ¡°And how is that done?¡± ¡°Killing Exeranoth.¡± Of course, Hero could have guessed that easily enough, but the confirmation is nice. ¡°How do I get to him?¡± The figure laughs. ¡°The way is long, as we must follow the ¡®narrative¡¯.¡± Hero squints an eye. ¡°We?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for you, actually. I also wish to slay Exeranoth, so I¡¯ll be going with you.¡± ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Do I need a reason to remove a tyrannical beast?¡± Hero shrugs. ¡°Guess not¡­ and why do you need my help?¡± The figure offers his hand. ¡°Because you are the hero, after all. Name¡¯s Kell.¡± Hero looks at the metallic hand for a moment, and takes it up; whatever Kell is, his name is girly as hell, and his hand is miraculously cold. ¡°Hero,¡± the lad introduces. ¡°Name, and title?¡± Kell asks. ¡°¡­Yeah, I guess it is.¡± ¡°Alright, Hero, ready yourself to go and say goodbye to your father. We¡¯ll move for the capitol as soon as we¡¯re able.¡± Hero nods, and turns to gather his things. He leaves a note for his father, promising his return. Log in, Assassin! Part 1 In an entirely different place, a standard school day is abruptly interrupted. A spitball flies sharply into Clark Bennett¡¯s neck. The black-haired, intense-faced lad turns sharply behind him to see Billy, as expected, though nowadays he just goes by ¡°Bill¡±. ¡°Listen up, fuckwad,¡± Bill says amidst a row of chuckling from the other kids. Clark just allows it, without a murmur or a gesture. Having been long-since broken to allow this kind of treatment, it¡¯s not hard to blame him for just bearing with it. ¡°Has Clark been daydreaming again, Mister Ericson?¡± The teacher asks, looking from her white board just enough to address Bill with her gaze. Of course, she conveniently only heard the ¡°Listen up¡± segment of Bill¡¯s sentence- at least, Clark is pretty sure she did. Bill grins, the whiteness of his smile visible to the teacher at even the back row of the classroom. ¡°Sure has, sir.¡± The teacher, a puckered, stern woman with intrusive glasses and a face so ugly it can only be stereotypical, shakes her head at Clark. ¡°I swear, Clark. You¡¯ve got to get your head out of these useless games!¡± She starts, ushering another set of snickers from everyone around him. ¡°Those headset¡¯s will rot your brain. They¡¯re the devil¡¯s tool and transport you right to a world of sin,¡± she adds, winning a collective, soft jeer from the class, pointed fully at Clark. It came out in a conversation early on in ninth grade that the infamous, secretive Clark does nothing but play games at home. This is all in an age where dedicated, ¡°hardcore¡± gaming is considered stupid and lame again. After all, who nerd would deal with all those complicated stats and builds when you can simply tap a plot of corn on your smartphone? ¡°It¡¯s not bad,¡± Clark says, like he always does. It¡¯s the one thing he believes in. He watched a video about it online once: ¡°Videogames is the continuation of the evolution of all mediums. Narrative is for books, sound is for music, and visual is for art, but when combined and pulled into the interactive medium, you have just created the final frontier of human interaction: Magic.¡± Said developer Sakamato in the interview, and he holds those words close. Of course, no one in the classroom really cares for Clark¡¯s opinion on how he wastes his life away now that he¡¯s in high school and should be doing real things with real people, like doing real drugs, and getting into real trouble. ¡°It is bad, and no one in their right mind would do it. It¡¯s like drugs ¡ª shouldn¡¯t be legal,¡± the teacher says. Bill, right behind Clark on a daily basis thanks to consistent assigned seating, leans up to whisper. ¡°Hear that, Clarko?¡± Bill asks with an expectant tone. ¡°You¡¯re out of your mind.¡± Clark would start up from his chair and go straight to the detention, as that¡¯s how this scenario usually plays out, but he has to get off from school on time today. It comes out today.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong,¡± Clark says, half-jokingly. To the teacher¡¯s surprise, Clark doesn¡¯t ¡°defy her authority¡± by explaining himself, but rather nods quietly as if in agreement. ¡°See, Mister Bennett? That wasn¡¯t so bad, was it?¡± She says, referring to all the previous times she sent him to detention. ¡°Sometimes just a little respect makes the world go round.¡± He nods again. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Wonderful.¡± She smiles and turns back to the board. ¡°Backing down? What a pussy,¡± Bill says with a venomous tone. Clark does not respond, and understandably this irritates Bill. Clark will appreciate the effects of this slight after school, when Bill executes the legendary ¡°passing-by-locker-slam¡± technique in the hallway after last period. His forehead pressed deep into the locker¡¯s ridges, his face is bloody for the entire trip home thanks to the two long cuts from Bill. The bus ride is maddeningly long, no one will offer him a seat, which isn¡¯t anything new, but today it seems like the world is particularly against him, as if it didn¡¯t want him to escape to his real life. As all bad things do, this comes to an end, and Clark is dropped off in front of his small, two bed two bath house. He does not spare a glance back to the school bus; there¡¯s nothing for him there, especially today of all days. He¡¯s always excited to get back home, but today is the day to be excited. He can¡¯t help but grin like its the holidays as he steps through the unkept yard with childhood toys scattered about the tall grass. He opens the door, slewing forth the immense odor of garbage and tobacco, wafting and permeating through the house¡¯s entire being like the miasma of some darkness lurking within. ¡°Did you do the dishes?¡± A heaving, gravelly voice speaks from a room across the hall. ¡°I did,¡± Clark says, freezing up and his heart holding still. ¡°Could you bring me some Wavies?¡± Clark takes a breath. His mom needs his help, is what the doctor said, and he will not abandon that responsibility. After all, she¡¯s the only thing that brings dad back, he¡¯s fairly certain. ¡°One minute.¡± He heats up a plate of ¡°wavies¡±, which taste way better than they look on the package, and Clark delivers it over to his mom¡¯s room. He opens the door just wide enough to place the plate on the small table next to the entrance. He has since learned from sorrow not to look far into her room to see her; it¡¯s too sad, but he knows he¡¯ll never get that addicted to the games - he¡¯s responsible, after all. He doesn¡¯t blame him mom for living the life she does, she¡¯s happier in the virtual world, where there is no third stage cancer to hear of. ¡°Thanks, honey,¡± she says, a respirator gasping in oxygen during her sentence. ¡°No problem. I¡¯m going to play that new one for a while,¡± Clark says, praying to whatever god will hear him, ¡°do you need anything else?¡± ¡°Nah, I¡¯m good. Have fun,¡± she says, the mechanical whir of the respirator equal in volume to her voice. Yes. ¡°Okay, just let me know,¡± he says, turning from the door and going to his surprisingly clean, sparsely-decorated room. The only things of significant value in his bedroom are his V.R. headset, a ¡°Full Neuron¡± model from Takahashi Technical, and his PC, running a powerful tri-card setup for split frame rendering. His mom helped him set it up, as his father wouldn¡¯t dare touch the things. Clark gently affixes on his headset, and pulls down the visor. He can see his computer monitor¡¯s G.U.I. like a landscape with it on, stretching his icons and appbar around him like an expansive field. From all of his icons on the app bar, he clicks on the very last one, symboled by some artistic cross of a dragon and a weapon: the DSO patcher. The patcher window opens, showcasing celebrating player characters on launch day - today, as well as any pertinent news and events coming up. Naturally, the entire game¡¯s been pre-loaded, all he needs to do is download the small launch patch of no more than a few megabytes, and begin. Log in, Assassin! Part 2 It¡¯s a simple log-in screen, showcasing a long, cloudy sky expanding on to a large mountain. All there is on the screen is the log in info, patch notes tab, and the neural link info, which is connected and ready to interrupt Clark¡¯s regular consciousness the second he logs in. His heartbeat picks up; this is it. The moment he¡¯s been waiting four years for. He remembers when it was first announced, a VRMMO that¡¯s more than just a bunch of naked furry custom avatars grinding for meaningless levels. From the day it was announced in its trailer video, DSO became synonymous with ¡°true contact¡± combat, where personal skill and ingenuity will give even the lowest-leveled players a massive advantage. A state of the art ¡°real musculature¡± system defines a player avatar to move precisely the way the player would in real life, but flaw free. Clark rubs his now-bandaged forehead as he prepares savors the moment before logging in on the first time. This is going to be a day he¡¯ll remember for the rest of his life. After just a moment¡¯s silence as he listens to the serene breeze playing in the log-in screen, he puts in his info, and taps ¡°log-in¡±. The transition process of older VRs were a little scarier. Most early adopters were horrified by the empty feeling of being fully disembodied in but an instant. The newer models and programs make that process a good deal smoother. At first Clark steadily loses his sense of touch, working from the outside in. Suddenly that injury on his forehead doesn¡¯t seem quite so bothersome, and a moment after that, he can¡¯t even feel it. Next to go is his sense of smell, which isn¡¯t so amazing, considering his room is the only well-scented one in the house. After that he can no longer taste his bloodied saliva, and then the whirring sound of his computer dies out. Finally, he blanks out. He¡¯s not worried, as the headset allows his subconscious mind to deliver just enough information to breathe and move as necessary. For that reason, it¡¯s recommended to use these headsets in very comfortable positions, or lying down, as hours can pass without any outside stimuli- a murderer could break into your house and you¡¯d have no idea until you were literally dead.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Of course there¡¯s countermeasures put in place for most of this stuff, like an in-console clock that always accurately reports the time, and a sound measurer that gives the user a notice if the ambiance around them is being disturbed in any serious way. Is the house on fire? Is someone screaming in your ear? You¡¯ll figure it out, so long as your headset¡¯s working properly. All around Clark is blackness, he is just a mind, the only present proof of his existence. And then, the world is rendered before him. His senses are all engaged as he takes a breath upon the character selection screen. ¡°Interesting design choice,¡± he thinks, considering most VRMMOs remove any semblance of oxygen from the game, considering the big upset about three years ago when Your World Online caused a person to hyperventilate their brain even though their body was just resting on the bed. Risky choice, but great for immersion. He scrolls to the second out of three character slots. He usually doesn¡¯t choose the first so he doesn¡¯t accidentally select and delete it one day. Call him paranoid, but it happened to him a couple times before in the earlier days of thought-selection-based U.I.. He selects ¡°Create New¡± and begins designing his avatar. The races available are pretty generic fare, as he saw from all the interviews. You have Humans, Elves, Dwarves, and some shitty original one called Faefolk which he can only assume is like fairies but are human-sized and have stupid glowy symbols floating over their heads. So original. Clark considers himself a fairly vanilla dude when it comes to avatar expression, so he goes for a Human male. He picked a female once in another online game, but stopped in an hour after a high level player solicited him for more than just a party invitation - weird. He designs his face, which is automatically templated off of his own facial features thanks to his headset¡¯s camera, which can track facial structure as well as expressions and mouth movements. He decides to make his hair a little darker, and his skin a tad paler for artistic contrast, and increase the age a little so he¡¯ll look more badass. Last step is his name. A wry smirk crosses his virtual face as he puts it in: the true reflection of his online personality. Name: 5L4Y Satisfied with his nom de guerre, he cursors over the start button and he enters the game. Welcome to your paradise, Assassin! Part 1 A sweeping violin score picks up as his vision casually meanders along a deep grove of lush flora interspersed with Gothic architecture. Before him is the majesty of Dragon Scythe Online¡¯s main city, starting point, and trade hub: Eizerith. He breaths in the wonderful fresh air of a world not yet introduced to modern industry, yet mystically devoid of the historically-accurate shit-lined streets. He looks through the round garden overlooked by the spiraling towers of the city, spotting only a handful of players ¡ª ¡°must be instanced,¡± he muses as he eyes over his quest hub. He nods in appreciation upon seeing that quests are given in a sandbox-style manner straight to the player rather than having to run about finding quest givers; not only is it more realistic-feeling, but it also is a good solution for the infamous practice of NPC abuse, which has become an incredibly common practice in earlier VRMMOs. There have even been some criminal charges pressed by certain game companies after some players pushed the freedom of simulation a little too far: the most infamous example being in God Slayer International, in which a guild, appropriately titled ¡°Asshole Brigade¡± spent five hours attempting to have orgy sex with all of the busiest NPCs in the game. Imagine the lack of surprise on everyone¡¯s faces when a group of fifty sweaty basement dwellers emote-caressed the queen of Lampern, the constant physical collision causing her to be unable to give out the incredibly important chain quest required for the first job advancement. Understandably, it¡¯s been a topic of hot debate, and Clark is rather glad that people can just molest NPCs without denying others quests - that¡¯s just too toxic. For the NPCs that do exist, however, they¡¯re usually surrounded by OP NPC guards, and consider any serious touching to be a duel request now, Clark thinks that¡¯s a pretty good way to deal with most trouble makers- after all, he¡¯s after players, not soulless NPCs. That said, his first quest is to go up and collect the Record of Aydoss, which isn¡¯t far at all.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Clark looks back to the game world and sees a floating, golden book no more than twenty meters from him. He¡¯ll venture to bet that¡¯s the book. He steps up without problem and collects it. Upon opening it to a dramatic theme of discovery, he realizes that it¡¯s a manual to the game world. The quest in his tab completes itself, and the entire quest tracker window disappears. It just so turns out that that¡¯s the only in-H.U.D. quest in the entire game. Everything else is player led and supposed to be recalled, just like an actual, real life errand. Clark nods to himself with a smile. This game gets him, minimal handholding. The moment he puts away the book filled with class descriptions and world lore, the gates leading out of the garden open wide, letting him through. He steps through without a thought, and finds a small, privately-instanced room with a table and a slew of weapons and gear. Clark reads the sign to the side of the torch-lit room: ¡°Take as many as you¡¯d like. They¡¯re all valued at ¡®0¡¯ gol, so don¡¯t worry yourself with selling them later,¡± the sign reads. Clark nods again as he picks up the items, it looks like they have real weight. As he places a pair of daggers into his bag, which can hold anything that can fit through the opening, he feels the weight of the daggers lain upon his whole body, as if he just suddenly started to weigh himself, plus the daggers. He takes a quick peek at his stats screen: 5L4Y Race:Human Class:Beginner Faction:None STR:5 DEX:5 INT:5 STA:5 CHA:5 LCK:5 He pauses a moment to take it in. This is the last time He¡¯ll see these numbers, probably. He takes a quick screenshot to remember the moment, and closes his stats tab to finish up in the room. He grabs a set of knives and daggers, along with a bow and quiver set ¡ª his prey might be fast, after all. Jostling his body about, he measures the weight of his gear with the physical aptitude with his character. Pleased with the light nature of his set, he goes forward. Finally he enters the city proper, and he¡¯s immediately impressed with the design. Rolling, twisting vines cross along the strong-holds and market squares all. He strolls through slowly at first, taking it all in and appreciating the atmosphere, but after only a couple minutes of watching players as low as him run about, his lust for blood gets the best of him. He¡¯s not going to let himself get out leveled by the masses; he¡¯s going to get right to it. Welcome to your paradise, Assassin! Part 2 He remembers another interview with Mister Sakamoto: ¡°¡­Combat will be something everyone can get behind, we believe. PvP in the wild will be the most rewarding form of exp, but also the most risky, as character death is an important thing for players to remember. We hope you will understand this choice,¡± he said before bowing his head respectably to the interviewer. From that point on, he told himself he was going for the lion¡¯s share every time. He knows he¡¯s skilled enough. He¡¯s watched every available clip of the beta footage, and he¡¯s certain he has enough knowledge for a launch day advantage. 5l4Y rushes out of the city, past droves of new, excited players, talking to one another and all appreciating the breathtaking immersion of this new world. He steps out into the city¡¯s nearby lvl 1-10 zone, instanced to keep the population sensible. Of course it¡¯s a forest, and of course everyone is killing goblins- pretty typical stuff. What¡¯s new and wonderful about this game, is that it¡¯s a full-loot, all-area PvP carnival of carnage. It¡¯s clear to see that for the most part players are too afraid to pick a fight with another considering the immense weight of failure, but he¡¯s played enough open world PvP games to know that your first lives are transient, and that learning the game and making mistakes quickly is the only way to excel. He¡¯s the sort that believes that the only difference between a beginner and a master is the amount of times they¡¯ve failed, so by all means, fail fast. The assassin starts weighing out his targets, checking out player after player, inspecting them with his tooltip and checking their levels. After only a minute looking over the field, he spots a couple of players, a level 3 male and a level 2 female, teaming up on the weakest goblins as they playfully banter back and forth. They''ll be his first. He considers his approach a moment, standing still enough to gain a weird look from a passerby, and finally he comes to a nod. 5L4Y walks down a nearby hillside in the wood, and shoves one of his daggers into the mantle of bark, doing a humorous 1 Damage to the tree. He spot checks it a moment, making sure he can still see the two from where he placed the dagger. Satisfied, he clears his throat, gets behind a tree at the very front of the treeline, and mimics a goblin.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°You hear that?¡± the female asks with anticipation. ¡°Yeah, I hear a ghost! I¡¯m spooked as hell!¡± the male says with emphasis, as if he thought he were really funny or something. The girl giggles as the two approach the treeline. ¡°Thanks for the subscribe! ~Muah~! Oh! Is that loot?¡± She asks outwardly, describing what is inherently obvious to herself and her companion. 5L4Y cringes; they¡¯re streamers ¡ª an appropriate first kill. He would tab out to see if he can find their stream and watch him murder their asses live, but he needs to stay alert. The two pass him by. ¡°Yeah, the game is wild so far!¡± The male says, probably answering another one of his asinine viewers. ¡°The graphics are so good and everything is so immersive!¡± He says as he approaches the dagger. 5L4Y cannot help himself as he ranges up behind them. ¡°That¡¯s not all that¡¯s immersive,¡± he says as he jabs his fist knife into the girl, getting a fantastic X5 critical and putting her down in a single vicious punch of the blade. She screams, and it sounds an awful lot like how a person would really scream, if they were really getting hurt, but he doesn¡¯t think on it as he draws up his bow. The male fires a goofy expression in 5L4Y¡¯s direction before drawing his sword. ¡°Whoa! Casey! I¡¯ll avenge you!¡± He shouts just as 5L4Y looses his arrow into the swordsman streamer¡¯s eye. The weird thing is, as [blind] pops over the streamer¡¯s head along with a fair amount of damage, his face actually looks pained, as if Clark¡¯s hit caused actual agony to the player. He dismisses the suspicion from his mind as he ranges in with his knives. In between the swordsman¡¯s wild, furious strikes, 5L4Y only needs to insert a dagger into his backside to get another critical hit, this time putting the young tank down for good, and flooding 5L4Y with exp up to level 3. He¡¯s left with two bodies, convulsing their last as he sheathes his set of weapons and checks the loot. They both had a fair amount of goblin parts on them, which he¡¯s sure would be salable for a fair amount of gol, as well as some dropped gol of a small value. Other than that they just have the same starter weapons he was offered, the swordsman in particular is humorous, considering he¡¯s lifting three different sets of gear as if all that slowdown would be worth it. Has he lifts the gol and the monster drops off his victims, he notes again the horrifying faces of his victims, curled in what looks like legitimate pain. He supposes for a moment that they were just really heavy role players, but it didn¡¯t seem that way by how they were acting and talking to their viewers. Welcome to your paradise, Assassin! Part 3 5L4Y reclaims his dagger from the tree and looks it over. An idea takes root in his mind. In the spirit of curiosity, he presses the tip of his dagger into the palm of his hand. He draws back quickly as he causes self-damage- the pain feels real. He draws back as he considers the implications of an MMO that has realfeel installed for more than just simple touching or pleasurable contact. He has a feeling this game will carve out a dedicated, but small niche of hardcore players. He smirks to himself, imagining the looks on the two streamer¡¯s faces right now. They¡¯re probably crying in front of their cameras, just now clued into to the real greatness of Dragon Scythe Online. He nods. This isn¡¯t all that bad. Just as 5L4Y turns to pick out some more victims, he pops up his stats screen and throws his 10 new stat points all in DEX. He doesn¡¯t need anything else, as DEX holds dominion over attack speed, crit chance, and crit damage: the holy trinity modifiers of smashing assholes and the creation of salty scrubs. Frankly, the fact that his victims will be feeling pain only makes it better for him. The longer he dwells on the fact, the happier he is. He¡¯ll become the embodiment of misery to so many people! He shakes himself from his trance as he picks out his next target. Just as he focuses in on his next, however, he feels a presence behind him. He swings at the ready, just a second from making the stab, but he thinks better of it. The person behind him isn¡¯t the sort you find in an MMO, setting, player, or otherwise. Fully dressed in something more closely resembling tactical sci-fi battle armor than anything else, the black suited individual speaks in a voice that betrays a thousand years of purpose spanning across a million realms. ¡°You kill with purpose,¡± he starts, ¡°you have hate in you.¡± ¡°What¡¯s it to you?¡± Clark asks, attempting to frame-in the older-sounding man and realizing he¡¯s not just uninspectable, but unselectable ¡ª a hacker, maybe? ¡°I can appreciate an individual that takes charge of himself,¡± the figure states, gently tapping the assault rifle slung around his side. He offers his hand to shake. ¡°Scribe Ein, O.E.L..¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°O.E.L.?¡± Ein scoffs. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. You¡¯re here for some real PvP, aren¡¯t you?¡± Clark raises a brow as he puts away his blade. ¡°What do you have in mind?¡± ¡°Dragon Scythe Online is a game with user interaction unlike any other. The form of the game¡¯s meta shifts based on player skill¡ª it¡¯s a whole new game, not something for the weak of heart. My question to you, Clark Bennett, is do you want to be the first Midnighter on the North American Server?¡± The young man draws back. 5L4Y feels truly afraid. ¡°Hey, man. Are you a hacker or something? I don¡¯t deal with that garbage.¡± Scribe Ein shakes his head. ¡°I¡¯m no cheater. DSO is a game beyond everything you¡¯ve ever reckoned. What I would tell you would change everything about how you see the game, and the players within, and I¡¯d hate to have that ruin your experience. DSO is made for the user, after all. So long, and enjoy the game,¡± Ein says with a nod as he turns about and steps off into the woods. 5L4Y looks to the ground in thought as he tries his hardest to hear Ein¡¯s practically-silent boots stepping along the lush moss. ¡°Hey,¡± Clark says, looking up. Ein stops. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Show me.¡± Ein holds his head high. ¡°I¡¯m having second thoughts myself, young man. Are you sure you¡¯re willing to be the server¡¯s first Midnighter?¡± ¡°I guess that depends,¡± Clark says. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°A unique class,¡± Ein explains as he turns back to look at the level 3 5L4Y. ¡°Only one exists at any time in the server, and your achievement will be recorded forever. You¡¯ll always be known as the first in North America. Don¡¯t you want that?¡± Clark stares forward blankly in thought. ¡°Just what does the class entail?¡± Ein scoffs. ¡°Fighting and killing the highest leveled players, NPCs, and mobs in the game. As you can cause actual pain with the realfeel system, you¡¯ll become the most infamous name in online gaming history. I can understand that you wouldn¡¯t be interes-¡± ¡°No,¡± Clark says, his eye twitching ambitiously. ¡°It¡¯s all I want.¡± Under his helmet, Ein smiles. ¡°Then answer me this, Clark. Is it better to be feared, or loved?¡± Clark assumes direct, deadly eye contact by staring into Ein¡¯s helmet. ¡°People that love you can still treat you like shit, that answer is obvious, man.¡± Ein chuckles. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right. This place can be a world for the strong, and I think you¡¯re just the right man for the job. You see, DSO isn¡¯t just the greatest video game ever made, it¡¯s also the most advanced social experiment ever made. In order to collect accurate data, I have one kicker for you.¡± Clark squints intensely. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°If you accept this class, you won¡¯t be able to log off until you die.¡± There¡¯s a pause as the whistles of the woodland bugs buzz through the air. ¡°I¡¯ve never backed down before. Let¡¯s do this!¡± Obtain the Sacred Weapon, Knight-Hero! Part 1 At an accelerated pace, an eager Hero trots down a highland dirt road with Kell just a meter behind. ¡°Can¡¯t you go faster?¡± Hero asks in an energetic, if a bit impatient tone. The mysterious Kell, huffing as he does his best to keep up, clears his throat. ¡°Well, actually I was wondering if we could slow down a little.¡± Hero sighs, and slows down to marching speed. ¡°I can¡¯t waste time when my dad¡¯s at risk like this.¡± ¡°Trust me on this one,¡± Kell says with a labored breath as he catches up ¡°slow and steady¡¯s what¡¯s going to win the race. If we rush in, our enemies could get the jump on us, and that could spell the end of our quest.¡± The young man hums in thought. ¡°Like who?¡± Kell looks down the road. ¡°The fake Rondi, and her blasphemous children, the O.E.L., as well as this cruel bastardization of a universe we are in.¡± ¡°That¡¯s vague,¡± Hero says, certain he¡¯s heard the name ¡°Rondi¡± before somewhere. ¡°Why do they want us to fail?¡± ¡°Science,¡± Kell says. ¡°Their means are usually mysterious, but those of us from the outside could see it happening.¡± Hero shakes his head. ¡°What¡¯s science, and what do you mean ¡®from the outside¡¯?¡± The little star-bright eye floating over Kell¡¯s shoulder beeps to him a moment, and he nods. ¡°Well, I suppose.¡± He turns back to Hero. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t go too into depth yet, else you may not believe me. Perhaps it¡¯s best that we just wait for our attackers to take their first attempt at us.¡± ¡°I can handle it,¡± Hero says with a smirk, noting his huge stat score of INT. ¡°It¡¯s a lot to handle, young man. I¡¯ll be very frank with you: The things I¡¯m going to tell you may persuade you that suicide isn''t all together out of the question.¡± Hero purses his lips. ¡°That¡­ that bad?¡± Kell nods. ¡°For now, just enjoy the veil of this world you know, and I¡¯ll lift it bit by bit as we go along.¡± ¡°Alright.¡± ¡°I understand that it would worry you, but for know, do know the very best thing for you to do would be to focus on slaying Exeranoth.¡± ¡°What would that do in your grand scheme?¡± ¡°It would save your dad, and I¡¯m sure that would calm you down,¡± Kell says with a good-natured scoff. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the details just yet, all will come in time.¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Alright,¡± Hero says, just as they cross over a hill that reveals the vista of a grand kingdom. ¡°Wow.¡± ¡°Never been to Eizerith before?¡± Kell asks. Hero shakes his head. ¡°No, never.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s a relief,¡± Kell says with a facetious tone. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°You¡¯d have to be running pretty fast to get there, and then back home in time!¡± Hero looks at Kell as if he¡¯s quite mad, which he very well could be. After all, who wears a helmet with four lenses? ¡°¡­What?¡± ¡°N-¡± Kell coughs. ¡°Nevermind. A-all will be known in time! Onward to Eizerith!¡± Kell says, dramatically pointing down the road. Hero shrugs, and decides to take this pause to keep putting points into his stats. This time he tries to balance himself out, putting only ten level¡¯s worth of points in a single stat each time before moving onto the next stat. He repeats this process for several minutes as they enter a canopied forest, chirping with birds. Pumping his stats produces such a wonderful feeling, Hero thinks; his entire body¡¯s chemistry changing and improving on the fly with each point spent. He can only imagine how immense he¡¯ll be after he¡¯s spent years putting in all the points, and that¡¯s just stats - when he gets to his skills, he¡¯ll be truly unstoppable. He fantasizes about his coming powers just as Kell stops short. Hero swears he should have been the first to notice danger, but then again he still doesn¡¯t know what his companion¡¯s capable of. ¡°What is it?¡± Hero asks. Kell stares into the woods a moment, and then pulls up a book from his cloaked person. The book is titled Dragon Scythe: Origins, with a ton of extra text around the cover. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Hero asks, raising his fists at the ready. Kell flips through a few pages, hums to himself, and then comes to a nod before closing the book. ¡°Strategy guide.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fairly certain this is the spot.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t we going to Eizerith?¡± Kell taps one of his cloak-hidden boots on a the forest ground. ¡°We are, however I figure we might as well go ahead and skip the ¡®three trials¡¯ garbage.¡± ¡°Th¡­ huh?¡± Hero looks about in confusion as Kell steps into an overgrown side path. ¡°Where are we going?¡± ¡°The temple of Aym¡¯s Holy Mercy.¡± ¡°Who¡¯s Aym?¡± ¡°The god of Aydoss.¡± Hero hums. The name sounds so familiar, and yet he can¡¯t quite recall where he heard that name last. ¡°So, how does Rondi fall into all this?¡± Hero asks as he brushes aside a branch as they enter a secret, ancient glade, overgrown with chivalric statues and old banners. Kell is silent a moment as he considers the best answer. ¡°You can consider Rondi an ¡®invading deity¡¯ in this case, as well as most of the people you meet here in Aydoss now. They might not realize it, but they are visitors from another world.¡± Kell finds what looks like a mausoleum door, overgrown with vines that themselves have been grown upon, and he lays his shining hand upon the door. ¡°HALT,¡± an intimidating, arcane voice speaks. ¡°YOU ARE TRESPASSING UPON THE DOMAIN OF AYM HIMSELF, KEEPER OF THE GREAT FROST, SLAYER OF THE FIRE EATERS, AND HE WHO BESTOWS THE WEAPON AGAINST THE TITANS. ONLY HE WHO HAS COLLECTED THE THREE DRAGON STONES, AND HE WHO IS OF THE PUREST OF HEART AND INCLINATION WILL BE ALLOWED TO PASS THROUGH THIS-¡± In the next second, Hero¡¯s vision and hearing are overwhelmed with the immensity of an explosion, caused no-doubt by Kell¡¯s stupid little shoulder symbol, floating about and beeping in its usually stupid, adorable way. The entirety of the mausoleum¡¯s entrance has been removed, as well as nearly a quarter of a mile of trees behind it. All in the path has been wiped clean with sweeping, undeniable force ¡ª like being struck by a star. ¡°There¡¯s your dragon stones,¡± Kell says matter-of-factly, and with no small amount of snideness, ¡°This way, Hero,¡± he adds as he starts down into the mausoleum¡¯s underground. Hero still can¡¯t believe that this guy has trouble running on his own two legs. Obtain the Sacred Weapon, Knight-Hero! Part 2 Now within the mausoleum, a sacred-sounding, if threatening score plays as the step into the dark. ¡°It¡¯s a bit hard to see,¡± Kell says, causing his little shoulder companion to glow up a tad, though the action doesn¡¯t make their surroundings much brighter. Hero snaps his fingers. ¡°One moment.¡± He opens up his skill page, and checks out the wizard tree. In only seconds he¡¯s spent enough points to get [mystic light], which he uses immediately, flushing the underground ruins with illumination by means of a hand-bound light. ¡°Good thinking,¡± Kell says as they approach the first of a series of rooms defending the mausoleum¡¯s prize. The room lights itself with magical torches that ignite the moment they step in. Before them they see a complex puzzle of blocks and switches corded up to a system of pulleys that ascend or descend based on the sum combination of ¡°up¡± switches pulled, all leading up to a frustratingly-high treasure pedestal with a golden key floating atop. What¡¯s more, for every pull of any switch, there¡¯s a door to the side that spawns an irritating group of high HP enemies, one that must surely have been designed for no purpose other than to break controllers and televisions. Kell looks over to Hero. ¡°This hour-long puzzle looks fun, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Kell asks in a bland tone. Hero sighs. ¡°Not really.¡± ¡°My thoughts exactly. Get us that key.¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you just blow up the door?¡± ¡°And cause a cave in?¡± ¡°Ahh, good point,¡± Hero says with a nod, starting to come to terms with the possibility that not all of rules of this world are as he thought. With a single bound, Hero uses his 1239 points of DEX to pass the puzzle in a single bound, taking up the key and then returning down just as quickly. The two step up to the door, and pass through as a victorious theme plays. ¡°Catchy,¡± Hero says. ¡°It gets old,¡± Kell replies without enthusiasm. ¡°You need to go forward for this one.¡± ¡°What? Like, ahead?¡± ¡°Just by a few steps,¡± Kell says, egging Hero on, who obliges. The moment Hero is not even five steps into the room, he is frozen instantly. ¡°Wh-what¡¯s happening?!¡± ¡°Cinematic,¡± Kell says helpfully. ¡°The dungeon is from a one-player game, so the designers could take that kind of liberty,¡± he adds as the door closes behind them and the game camera pans over to look into the center of the room. A horrific, dangerous theme provides the backdrop as magical torches alight to reveal a massive retinue of shadow creatures ¡ª disturbing, fluctuating monstrosities in the rough-hewn shapes of animals and humans. Just as the camera pans up on the front-most one, a wolf, Kell fires off another one of his bolts. The very second the camera pans out and Hero is able to move, he is frozen again so that the progression doors may open, considering the enemies are now dead. The same quippy tune plays. ¡°That was¡­¡± Hero mutters as he almost loses his balance. ¡°Yes, it was,¡± Kell says, almost impatiently, as the two pass by the spot where the mini-boss formation existed just seconds ago. They progress to the next room, where an intimidating statue of an ancient man looks down on them with disapproving, grim eyes. In the deep silence of the room, the statue speaks, its motionless body reverberating its deep, archaic voice. ¡°ONLY THOSE WHO KNOW THIS, THE DEEPEST OF-¡± ¡°Friendship,¡± Kell says blandly. That stupid victory theme plays again as the statue splits in two, revealing an open doorway to the next room. Obtain the Sacred Weapon, Knight-Hero! Part 3 ¡°Wh-¡± Hero¡¯s not quite sure how to phrase how he feels about this. ¡°Are we like, skipping stuff?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not one for wasting time,¡± Kell says. ¡°The sooner we get the Dragon Scythe, the sooner we can dispose of our pursuers.¡± Hero raises an eye. ¡°We have pursuers?¡± Kell nods. ¡°Right, and not the fun sort either. They¡¯ll be at our necks faster than you can realize what¡¯s happening.¡± Hero scoffs. ¡°So¡­ like, not calling you dumb, or anything, but I¡¯m pretty sure you and I can¡¯t be beat.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right, my strength is at 1293 and climbing. I¡¯m level five million!¡± Kell shakes his head. ¡°Enjoy the stats while you can, but you need to become heroic on the inside, as well as out. ¡°¡­ I have over 1000 intelligence as well. I¡¯m pretty smart.¡± As they step through the final catacomb, Kell chuckles gently. ¡°You do understand ¡®INT¡¯ stands for ¡®Intuition¡¯, yes?¡± Hero raises a brow. ¡°Really?¡± Kell nods. ¡°It operates closely to how intelligence would in most other games, but intuition also helps with tracking stealthed enemies and finding patterns in things. Intelligence is something that must be gained manually through reading or experience.¡± ¡°Where can I find that stat?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not measured in the game,¡± Kell says, reaching the final door, looking like a very serious affair indeed. The door is of a jagged obsidian finish, with a great, screaming skull carved out in the center. Hero hums. ¡°So, what do you mean, exactly, ¡®not in the game¡¯? Is game just another word for ¡®world¡¯ to you?¡± Kell pauses at the door, looking to the floor in thought. His four-eyed mask gleams weakly against Hero¡¯s hand-bound light. ¡°Have you ever read a book, with characters and a story in it?¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Hero crosses his arms. ¡°As in¡­ a story that¡¯s read, rather than told?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t.¡± Kell nods. ¡°What if I told you that we were in the same world as characters that we ourselves would consider fictitious?¡± ¡°Like story characters and real people in the same world?¡± ¡°Something like that, yes.¡± Hero shrugs. ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem all that hard to grasp.¡± Kell chuckles. ¡°No it doesn¡¯t. Are you ready?¡± Hero looks at the door. ¡°Something feels wrong.¡± ¡°Must be all that INT speaking to you, eh?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Hero says, squinting at the large skull in the center of the door as if it held some grand secret. ¡°What¡¯s your INT at?¡± ¡°I actually don¡¯t have a stat sheet. I¡¯m not what you¡¯d call a local here.¡± ¡°But you caused damage numbers to jump over that lich¡¯s head when you hit it.¡± ¡°Thats because the¡­ ¡®system¡¯, we¡¯ll call it, automatically translates my actions into this world, like many of the other ones who aren¡¯t from¡­ well, either the story, or the world it was merged with.¡± Hero sighs. ¡°I¡¯m sure this will all become clear in time.¡± Kell nods. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it too much. It¡¯s not really such a big deal to me, though to you it should come as a bit of a shock once it fully hits home.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the big twist?¡± ¡°I already told you. You just need a little bit of time to understand the vastness of its implications. Now let¡¯s get our Dragon Scythe.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s,¡± Hero affirms, as he steps forward and ¡°selects¡± the door in his mind. The skull-door¡¯s eyes glow with sanguine dread before it looses a deathly scream that splits the passage open, shearing the ancient metal bands intended to prevent the doors¡¯ opening. ¡°Scary,¡± Kell says in that plain, half-sarcastic mannerism that Hero¡¯s starting to catch onto. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Hero nods as they enter the great holding cell of the dragon scythe. ¡°So once we get the dragon scythe, that¡¯s all we need to defeat Exeranoth?¡± Hero asks the moment before he squints into the darkness of the oncoming tunnel. Kell nods. ¡°It¡¯s a weapon worthy of your stats, and it¡¯s required to continue the narrative of the game. So by all intents and purposes it should be you t-¡± ¡°Something¡¯s weird,¡± Hero says in an uneven tone. Kell scoffs. ¡°Pretty sure one hundred percent of this is-¡± The second Hero drops his mystic light, shrouding them in the ether of darkness, Kell seriouses up. ¡°What is it?¡± Making good use of the huge perception bonuses from his INT and DEX, Hero peers blankly into the upcoming chamber. ¡°Someone¡¯s in there.¡± Kell¡¯s cloak riles in violent anticipation, as if it were an extension of its wearer. ¡°Bright-Solemn,¡± Kell addresses. ¡°Pipipiii!¡± The small, glowing figment of something over his shoulder beeps cheerfully in response. ¡°Check it out.¡± At that order, the tiny and dutiful Bright-Solemn floats out into the opening of the final chamber with a whistling tune, Hero and Kell waiting with bated breath. Bright-Solemn looks around, flipping every which way to get a good look at its surroundings, but just as it finishes its recon, a piercing, sharp bang overtakes the room. Kill, Assassin, Kill! Part 1 ¡°Shit,¡± Scribe Ein says, watching from behind cover as Bright-Solemn retreats with a squeaky cry back into the passage. ¡°I missed.¡± 5L4Y, also behind cover and with the crimson power of the Dragon Scythe in hand, peeks over the outcropping of the alter he¡¯s using as protection. ¡°So who are these guys, exactly?¡± Ein chuckles. ¡°Recall that you¡¯re a special PvP class tasked with suppressing game progression, he is a special PvE class, super-powered for finishing all the raids in record time.¡± Clark squints an eye, now glowing with the same red as the dragon scythe as the weapon surges him with power. ¡°Well the game came out today, so how far could they be?¡± Ein calmly leans out of cover as he readies himself for his next shot. ¡°The Dragon Scythe is a unique one-per-realm weapon that¡¯s required for the last boss. These guys had to get through eighty percent of Aydoss'' raids to get here.¡± Clark hisses in a mix of disgust and envy. ¡°Some people really have no lives. How could they have done it this fast though?¡± ¡°Unique class, like I said. The other untargetable is also a developer, so you need to use your non-target skills to damage him, or your realfeel collision.¡± There¡¯s short pause as the two wait for their targets to make an appearance. ¡°So, as long as we keep the scythe away from them, they can¡¯t progress in the server-wide events you told me about?¡± Ein nods. ¡°If they get the scythe they¡¯ll kill the first legion boss.¡± ¡°Whoa, legions are those three hundred player raids?¡± ¡°Yeah. If they succeed the world tree will grow and open up the second echelon.¡± ¡°Wh- Wait, so there¡¯s multiple worlds?¡± ¡°Right. Aydoss has seven continents, Aygant has five, and Ayon has three. Each one has a¡­ They¡¯re moving. Get ready,¡± Ein says, pressing lightly into his trigger as his scanners pick up movement. In a flash, a midnight-black cloak connects through the air from one point to the next in a nigh-instantaneous flourish of speed. Ein opens fire on the hooded Kell and Bright-Solemn, which is already blinking to attack.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Go, Midnighter! I¡¯ve got this one!¡± Ein shouts as he opens fire on the shockingly fast Kell, dashing through the room in mid-air evasion. ¡°On it!¡± Clark dashes from cover and to the tunnel, the thin outline of a blond-haired lad in view. In but just a second and gamer fueled prowess Clark sizes up his opponent. Unlike most MMOs where an avatar''s face is a soulless embodiment of the player, Hero looks just as real as one of Clark''s bullies at school. He does not mind the extra immersion. With a visceral forward slash, Clark scarcely misses Hero, who barrels to the side. "So you must be one of the Dragon servants," The blond haired lad asks as he readies for fast movement. "Role-playing a little hard, aren¡¯t we?" Clark says, grinning viciously as he rears in for another strike. Without focusing on the other two Clark in hero exchange fast, fatally-quick blows, but Hero is faster. Making good use of his hysterical levels of dexterity, Hero throws forward his fist, barely scraping across Clark''s backside. While in most cases it would be a glancing blow, because of Hero¡¯s immense strength and speed, it slams Clark into a spin, flying through the air and into the wall nearby. The assassin takes nearly 20,000 damage, cutting a heavy tenth from his now-gargantuan HP total. As [dazed] pops over Clark¡¯s head, Hero leaps in for the kill. Clark can feel the immense draw of air from the sheer force of Hero¡¯s fist rearing back for the punch. "Meet your end, evildoer!" Hero exclaims with a tone of immaculate righteousness. Even though his vision is wavy, Clark can still see enough to focus his target. He smiles. "The only one logging out today is you, friend!" Clark screams with a grin as he activates smoke bomb. While smoke bomb would get most players off his tail, Hero as far, far more intuition than most. Hero doesn''t miss a beat when he again barrels to the side and lands alert and ready for Clark''s approach. Clark readies the Dragon Scythe, the weapon¡¯s spirit shaking Clark to his very core with mad fantasies of ultraviolence and glory through combat. Clark pops off ambush and teleports behind hero. "Pssh... nothing personal, kid," Clark says, for a moment thinking that such was a cool thing to say before killing someone. To his great surprise Hero is just a little more spry than the average human with common reflexes. Clark only realizes too late that he teleported right into Hero¡¯s extending leg, jutted out purposefully to catch Clark at the onset. "What the hell!?" Clark gurgles as he spits up some blood from the strike. If his stats weren''t multiplied to freakish proportions, Clark would have been utterly shattered by the strike. "I''m far too keen to be bested by your magic tricks, boy-knave," Hero says as he turns around and lifts his leg for another powerful blow. Clark''s not done, far from it; however he''s got got to think of something faster than his opponent, and his opponents sickeningly fast. In the slight lull of combat, Clark inspects Hero and brings up his character sheet. Hero has stats comparable to an entire top-tier dungeon party, combined. What''s even weirder is that his stats are increasing in real time, as if he has a million stat points unspent. Perhaps even stranger though, is that this person has no class to speak of except for the generic beginner. Clark mulls on what that could mean for a moment, and realizes there''s one technique that hero couldn''t possibly counter. Kill, Assassin, Kill! Part 2 ¡°So let me get this straight,¡± Clark says as he jumps back to his feet. "You''re level five million and you haven¡¯t even advanced a single job?" "What''s it to you, rogue?" Hero asks with an incriminating glare as he readies for the next bout of blink fast movements. Clark''s superior smirk twists into a grin. "It''s quite a lot to me Hero," Clark says as he readies his skills, "considering all classes get their first anti-stun halfway through their first job." In a Wintery blink Clark pops his just-finished cooldown of ambush and uses flash grenade, promptly stunning Hero, as he''s entirely within the grenade''s instant-activate radius. Hero is helpless, as he hasn''t advanced to any job at all yet, wheras Clark spent a quick minute to get his official training to assassin. Clark only has five seconds, but it''s all he''ll need. Without the dramatic ceremony of Hero Clark dives in for the kill, slamming the Dragon scythe¡¯s blade into Hero¡¯s backside with a deep gushing tear of human flesh and enchanted steel. Hero cries out in pain as the damage numbers upwards and million¡¯s worth of damage numbers jump over his head with each twist of the scythe. It''s time for the coup de grace ¨C the sacred words of the dragon''s demise: "Ay, gurl, ain''t cha'' gon¡¯ park dat ass over-" before Clark can finish the sacred incantation, his trained battlefield awareness, sharpened through years of intense VR games, does him credit by alerting him to the eerie absence of Scribe Ein''s gunfire. Without even enough time to tear out the scythe, Clark leaps to the side dodging a stellar, utterly fatal bolt from Kell''s companion, Bright-Solemn. If Clark were a second late, his station of Midnighter would come to an abrupt, fiery end. He pops combat stealth the second he''s able, disappearing from sight. As Kell descends upon Hero, Clark rounds the cover to find Scribe Ein, ready with his light knife- a powerful melee weapon that can split through armor, flesh, and rock with comparable ease. "What''s going on?" Clark asks, searching Ein for any wounds or status effects. Ein scoffs as he plays with his rifle in his inner grip and holds the light knife with his free hand. "Bastard somehow caused my weapon to jam. It must''ve been his assistant."Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Clark shakes his head lightly. "But what the hell is that supposed to mean? What are we supposed to do?" Ein finally gets his weapon open to find his steel-sheet ammunition all melded together in a molten mess. "We have to fall back." Clark squints an eye intensely. "Will we get another chance?" Ein growls in thought as he peeks over cover and notes Kell taking up Hero in the folds of his sentient cloak. "If you can get that scythe back right now, then we''ll have a chance." Clark hisses in thought. "Can''t you do anything? You can stealth too, can''t you?" Ein sighs. "It''s not quite that simple. I''m not fully integrated with the server." Clark chuckles. "Damn," he starts with a bemused smirk, "it''s like everyone who plays this is a role player." Ein chuckles back awkwardly. "Sure thing. Anyway, only you can get the scythe back. If we miss this chance they¡¯ll no-doubt open up the second echelon, meaning we¡¯ll have twice as much ground to cover." Clark nods in agreement. "Yeah, I don''t get why these guys are trying to rush through everything. I always liked online games because of the immersion." Clark watches carefully as Kell disappears through the passage leading out of the dungeon. Clark gulps in anticipation. ¡°Alright then.¡± ¡°Good luck, I¡¯ll be waiting at the regroup point.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Clark says, just as he hears the sound of a stealth field activating. Clark looks to his left, and sees Ein, completely gone from sight. ¡°Hey, what the hell, dude?! I thought you said you didn¡¯t have stealth.¡± Ein, invisible to the naked eye, laughs as he steps off. ¡°The analyst can still track me, as he too is unintegrated. Skills work best on people from the same¡­ same developer level. You can stealth on Kell and it¡¯ll take him a moment before he sees you, Hero on the other hand will tag you almost instantly.¡± ¡°Whoa,¡± Clark says with an awe-struck glare. ¡°So that Hero bitch¡¯s buddy really is a dev. Typical. He must¡¯ve worked on the combat system ¡ª exploiting bitch.¡± ¡°See you soon,¡± Ein says. ¡°Get the scythe, leave before they do, or else the analyst¡¯ll progress the server narrative.¡± ¡°Got it,¡± Clark says with a killer spark in his eye. ¡°Any recommendations for approach?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Ein says, his voice fading out due to distance. ¡°Don¡¯t get spotted. Either of them would fuck you sideways now that you¡¯re unarmed, and the tunnels back don¡¯t have much room for maneuver. If the analyst spots you¡¯re going to have a hard time getting out of that one. See ya.¡± Clark nods. ¡°Bye,¡± he says, now left to himself and his task. He takes a moment to weigh out his skills against his enemy before moving into action. He¡¯s going to get that scythe back if it¡¯s the last thing he does in this game. After all, when you¡¯re the very first Midnighter of all, you need to set a good example for the future generations. Dont die, Knight Hero! Part 1 Hero feels light, woozy. He knew this feeling just earlier today when bleeding out from that undead¡¯s sword. So much has happened since then, it all feels like a flash in the pan. With a deep breath, he focuses his vision. He knows he¡¯s moving at just above a walking pace, but he¡¯s not exactly sure what¡¯s going on. He sees that he¡¯s being carried, not by Kell, but by his entity-like cloak. ¡°Did we- shit!¡± Hero jolts on his movement, realizing that the Dragon Scythe¡¯s blade is still plunged into his backside. ¡°No time for that. I¡¯ve got to get you to an inn,¡± Kell says. Hero scoffs. ¡°And what will an inn do?¡± ¡°Automatic recovery bonuses. They¡¯re based on percent, too, so you¡¯ll be back on your feet in no time,¡± Kell says, his cloak wrapping around Hero¡¯s wound to staunch the flow of blood. ¡°Consider yourself lucky we were able to fend them off.¡± ¡°Couldn¡¯t you kill them and get this over with?¡± ¡°They gave us the scythe, one way or another. By the time they¡¯re able to regroup we¡¯ll be at Exeranoth.¡± ¡°Wait, really?¡± Kell nods as they pass back through the room with the annoying puzzle, now flooded in darkness. ¡°Yes, really. You must understand that in the game¡¯s timeline we¡¯re basically at the last five percent of the thing.¡± ¡°¡­Something feels wrong,¡± Hero says, ¡°they¡¯re still onto us.¡± ¡°Pi?¡± Bright-Solemn beeps as it turns around to check behind Kell¡¯s backside. It saw something.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Kell stops short as his assistant does, and turns about to look back down the hall. ¡°Save your breath.¡± There¡¯s a quiet moment as Kell and Bright-Solemn look down the hall, which is otherwise silent if not for the water dripping from the ceiling. ¡°Pipipi.¡± Kell hums. ¡°Are you quite certain?¡± Kell says to the playing-card-sized assistant. ¡°They must have integrated out somehow, maybe a teleport ability?¡± ¡°Pipi, pipipipipi!¡± The two stand fast a moment more. ¡°I really don¡¯t see anyone. It must be your imagination. They wouldn¡¯t bound back that quickly.¡± ¡°¡­Piiii¡­¡± Bright-Solemn squeaks in replies with no small amount of sass, the eye on the length of its body squinting as if irritated. As Kell floats forward, Hero coughs up an extra gulp of blood. As certain as Kell may be, Hero is not. With his still-climbing count of 1405 INT, he knows something is behind them, and its close. ¡°They¡¯re near¡­ give me the scythe,¡± Hero says. ¡°It¡¯s lodged in your back, young man. That would be difficult,¡± Kell says laxly as he continues on. ¡°¡­I¡¯ll do it myself.¡± At that, Hero struggles with crimsoned arms to wrest the scythe from his backside. ¡°You really should reconsider that,¡± Kell says, ¡°You should know well enough that the bleeding system works realistically, or would you know that? Frankly I¡¯m not quite sure¡­ hey, I¡¯m not kidding,¡± Kell reiterates as Hero struggles with everything he has to arm himself with the weapon plunged inside him. ¡°He¡¯s right behind us. Look,¡± Hero says with a desperate tone before another cough. Kell turns around to peek back down the hall, joining Bright-Solemn, who¡¯s been floating backwards since its initial suspicion. There¡¯s another pause as Kell looks over the quiet hall, spoiled over with old pottery and ancient baubles. ¡°Clearly, you two must be seeing something that I¡¯m-¡± Punctuating his breath, Kell feels a sharp gust of wind pass him by. No sooner does he look back forward does he see the looming, hooded figure of Clark, high in mid air, deploying his flash grenade with one hand and reaching for Hero with the other. Within a critical, explosive moment, Clark¡¯s grenades go off, flooding the hall with gold-red light that distracts all¡­ all but a certain someone with so much INT, he cannot possibly be deterred from his goal. In a blind, reflexive, movement, cuts upward with the Dragon Scythe. He had removed it so quietly that no sound was made, and as such his opponent would expect a weakened target. With such godly poise Hero delivered his cut, that and onlooker could have expected him a warrior of many hundreds of years, if not more. Dont die, Knight Hero! Part 2 Clark flies back, the scythe having taken off his right hand along with gashing clean through his leg on the same side. His blood paints the wall sloppily as [heavy bleed]¡¯s enormous attribution text jumps over the boy¡¯s head. As the flash dies down, Hero is visible standing on his own two feet, having leapt from Kell¡¯s grasp at the ready in but a second. With his HP in shambles, his 1338 STA holds strong, giving him endurance even now, when he¡¯s lost far more than a gallon of blood. The assassin uses smokebomb once more, ensuring at least five seconds of guaranteed stealth free from Hero¡¯s powerful INT score, and rushes out, the splatterings of his blood shown only seconds later as they leave his body and lose their stealth status. ¡°Know this, cur,¡± Hero speaks with a pained breath as he shouts down the hall, ¡°Exeranoth will fall, and no one can stop us!¡± Kell nods as he looks down to Clark¡¯s right hand, lying on the floor, and still oozing unnatural amounts of blood. ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure that made an impression on them¡­ Sorry I wasn¡¯t of much help there ¡ª no clue how I didn¡¯t see through his stealth.¡± Hero looks behind him to flash a smile to Kell. ¡°It¡¯s okay, maybe you don¡¯t know everything about this ¡®game¡¯ just yet.¡± Kell nods again as his cloak takes up Clark¡¯s hand and tucks it away within its many folds. ¡°I most certainly do not. The A.I. Director seems to be a bit more capable than I thought¡­ this is nothing like the prototype project.¡± ¡°The what?¡± Hero says, his entire body shaking. Kell breaks from his seconds-long distraction as he takes back up Hero. ¡°Right, so your wound got¡­ way larger, good job,¡± he says in a tone of sarcastic admonishment. Hero coughs. ¡°I¡¯m okay, really.¡± ¡°Maybe you should get some healing skills, because I can¡¯t do a thing for you.¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Hero laughs, a long stream of blood from his mouth. ¡°I¡¯d expect you¡¯d have some healing spells tucked away in that head of yours.¡± ¡°Yes, but they¡¯re not really spells and they wouldn¡¯t work on you, now let¡¯s get to Eizerith. Once we get some time out at the inn, we¡¯ll be ready to fight Exeranoth and I¡¯ll take us right to him.¡± ¡°Am I ready?¡± Hero asks, Dragon Scythe wrapped securely between his affixed arms. ¡°You¡¯re way past ready,¡± Kell says, ¡°All we need is to kill him, and that should complete the standard narrative.¡± ¡°What will that cause?¡± ¡°It¡¯ll remove you and your father¡¯s curses,¡± Kell says as they hover out from those deadly catacombs and into the fresh air of the woods. ¡°¡­I understand that, but you¡¯re from another world, right?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t need to come here, did you?¡± ¡°I did.¡± Hero scoffs. ¡°Okay, so why?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯d quite get it. It¡¯s only of those ¡®you¡¯ll understand in time¡¯ situations.¡± Hero smirks. ¡°Try me.¡± Kell looks on to the long-ivied walls of gold-white Eizerith. ¡°I am compelled through fear alone, I would say. I¡¯ve come to this forsaken place to foil the forces connecting the worlds. I¡¯m going to crush this boundary, and enter their own spaces. I have so much hate in my heart, and I recognize that, but I feel as though I am helpless to stop myself. The only reason I let that scribe go was because you and the scythe are my main priority, otherwise I would have destroyed him with total impunity. Frankly, I¡¯m embarrassed to think of the person I was from before, and comparing that to what I am now. It¡¯s like I¡¯ve devolved, as if no amount of age and wisdom could really teach me to be like the others. Perhaps I¡¯ll never see it like they do.¡± Hero stares on awkwardly. ¡°Y-yeah, I guess I don¡¯t get it yet¡­ but thanks for the help.¡± ¡°¡­No problem... excuse me, that was a bit of a dump,¡± Kell says, the ancient ruins folding into the trees behind them as they press on to the capitol city. ¡°No¡­ no that¡¯s fine,¡± Hero averts his gaze. ¡°Pipi Piiii,¡± Bright-Solemn notes with a smug squint. ¡°And you can politely shut the hell up,¡± Kell says to his tiny floating companion, ¡°That¡¯s entirely my business.¡± ¡°Pi. Pipi pi pi.¡± ¡°You pathetic little¡­¡± Kell shakes his head. ¡°Sorry, can we just enjoy the silence on our way to the city, please?¡± ¡°Pipi,¡± Bright-Solemn says with a venomously passive-aggressive tone. Kell sighs as Hero just looks away. He¡¯s met some weird people in his life, but these two are way off the scale for him. Grab the event quest, Assassin! Part 1 Clark finds himself leaning into a tree. For all his merit and fierceness, he cannot for the life of him turn around to strike at them again. The pain¡­ the immense pain is so real that it would debilitate, but just like the with school, Clark needs to grin and bear it. In just a few minutes outside of the silent glade, an active camouflaged operator is revealed, approaching the tree with his rifle slung-round. ¡°They¡¯ve left the area,¡± Scribe Ein starts, his tactical visor gleaming dully in the soft forest light. ¡°Heals,¡± Clark says in a wavering tone. ¡°What?¡± Clark turns from his hunched position at the tree to review his damage. ¡°Heal my fucking hand, man!¡± Ein draws back in put-on surprise. ¡°I¡¯m very sorry.¡± ¡°What do you mean! Heal me!¡± Clark steps forward into Ein¡¯s space senselessly, brandishing the crimson knob that is now his right forearm, gripped tightly by the left to prevent bleeding. Ein smirks under his visor. ¡°Mister Bennett, body parts cannot be regenerated in this game. If you want to regain use of your hand, you either get it back, or have an artificer-skilled player replace i-¡± ¡°Bullshit!¡± Clark bark in exasperation. ¡°I want my fucking hand!¡± Ein slaps the boy across his face, causing Clark to freeze up from the abuse. ¡°You haven¡¯t lost your real hand Clark. It only feels like it.¡± Clark needs a moment to respond in between his hysterical gasps. ¡°¡­I¡­ yeah, I know.¡± He takes a deep breath as Ein nods.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Good, now act like it. I wasn¡¯t kidding when I said Dragon Scythe Online was a true next generation game.¡± ¡°The term game is a little bit of a stretch, don¡¯t ya¡¯ think?¡± Clark asks with a grin as he leans against the large oak that he¡¯s already bled a couple of gallons of his digital blood upon. Ein laughs. ¡°A game for the strong, where the punishments are great, but the rewards are greater¡­ Look, if you want I can kill you in-game and it¡¯ll log you out. You¡¯ll be free and can play the game norma-¡± ¡°Fuck that,¡± Clark says with a tight, furious grin. ¡°We still need to get that scythe back.¡± Ein picks up Clark, slinging him around his shoulders. ¡°We certainly do, I need to find an inn.¡± ¡°An inn? For HP?¡± Clark asks, the embarrassment of being carried no competitor for his attention when he¡¯s freshly lost a limb. ¡°Yes, and I need to sleep.¡± Ein picks up his pacing into a full sprint, bolts faster than Kell, but much, much slower than what Hero¡¯s top speed will be. ¡°What for?¡± ¡°I need to access the admin and request a¡­ change.¡± Clark sighs as he shakes his head. ¡°This doesn¡¯t make any sense, can¡¯t you just whisper him?¡± ¡°No, and it¡¯s a she.¡± ¡°Huh¡­ So what are we changing?¡± ¡°Going to activate an event early. It was actually slated for just an hour from now, when we expected maximum player numbers with the server.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­ how big are these servers?¡± ¡°There¡¯s only one server, and it¡¯s roughly fifty million.¡± ¡°Jesus, Mary and Joseph,¡± Clark says under his breath. ¡°This hurts,¡± he says with a chuckle. ¡°Stay with it. And who are they?¡± Clark¡¯s gaze shifts down to Ein. ¡°Who do you¡­ wait, are you serious?¡± ¡°Your family, I assume?¡± Ein asks. Clark looks back up to the road with a bland, expression, sick with pain. ¡°Jesus, all these roleplayers. I¡¯m going insane. Can you tone it down, at least a little? It¡¯s kinda psyching me out.¡± Ein hums with a thoughtful tone. ¡°You need to get immersed. You should be toning it up.¡± Clark scoffs. ¡°Fine. Whoa m¡¯lord are we verily making travel to yonder city? I¡¯ve heardest goodly things about such a fief.¡± Ein, looking more like someone who just walked off a spaceship than from an ancient catacomb, shakes his head. ¡°You seem awfully snippy for someone who just lost a hand.¡± ¡°Gotta make the best out of what ya¡¯ got, right?¡± The two share a laugh as they pass through the city gates, Ein slowing to a trot. Grab the event quest, Assassin! Part 2 It¡¯s only seconds until a well-meaning healer class player spots Clark, and targets him. As they pass by, the young lady raises her staff and uses lesser healing a few times. Immediately Clark¡¯s pain meets a very welcome end, though the sensitivity of his new knob is still there. ¡°Th-thanks!¡± Clark calls as Ein carries him along. Neither of them saw who did it from in-between the crowds, but both are fairly certain she wouldn¡¯t have healed him if she knew what his job was within the game. They step up to an inn by the name of ¡°the splattered squire¡±, emblemed pleasantly by a young man being crushed under the foot of a massive dragon. Ein places Clark back on his feet, and they forge into the ale-and-steak scented atmosphere of the inn. A mandolinist is playing a calm tune alongside another bard player, who¡¯s trying his best to synchronize with the other¡¯s really quite impressive playing. Ein nudges Clark and nods his head over to the back, where a young man with brown curly hair is standing dutifully behind a desk. ¡°Huh, a player as an innkeeper?¡± Clark speaks under his breath to Ein. ¡°Tricked? It¡¯s an NPC,¡± Ein says. The two step up to the innkeeper. It¡¯s not immediately clear to Clark that the innkeeper is an NPC, because its head doesn¡¯t track to the person nearest to them like most would. ¡°Pretty impressive design, especially considering its inspect sheet is identical to a player¡¯s.¡± ¡°DSO was designed to deliver indistinguishable AI experiences, check this out,¡± Ein nods over to the innkeeper. ¡°Good day.¡± The young man, by the name of Jonson, nods pleasantly. ¡°Hello, sir, and a good day to you!¡± Ein looks to Clark, who nods as if impressed. ¡°I¡¯m going to need a room for an hour.¡± Jonson draws back. ¡°Only an hour sir?¡± He wearily eyes Clark, notable younger-looking than the tall and matured Ein. ¡°¡­Sir, there is no brotheling to be allowed in this establishment.¡± ¡°Wh-¡± Clark stops himself as he¡¯s overcome with laughter. ¡°You misunderstand, boy,¡± Ein says, ¡°We¡¯re just laying low for a while.¡± Clark squints in suspicion. ¡°¡­And how many beds will you have?¡± ¡°Whatever¡¯s cheapest, one bed is fine.¡± Jonson sighs. ¡°Sir, I thought I made it perfectly clear tha-¡±This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Whatever, I don¡¯t care! Just give us a damn room!¡± The young Innkeep flings up a pair of keys. ¡°Two hundred gol.¡± In just as much speed, Ein flings over a bag of gol, dense with ¡®100¡¯ gol coins. ¡°Wh- s-¡± ¡°A tip for good service,¡± Ein says as snatches up the keys and heads up past the job board and to the staircase. Clark fires a glance over to Jonson as he steps off, Jonson looks legitimately surprised. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Clark says, catching up to Ein. ¡°It¡¯s totally lifelike.¡± Ein nods. ¡°Technology has come a l-¡± ¡°No, like, super lifelike. I¡¯m not sure if I believe you.¡± Ein shrugs as they go down the hall, passing a couple more stupid role-players as they arrive to their room, ¡®2F¡¯. ¡°Believe me. The tech we¡¯ve been dealing with at the office has been intense.¡± Clark hums as they enter the room with a satisfying ¡®click¡¯ of the keys. Opening forth reveals a quaint, cozy room with a bed and a couple chairs, a solitary, unadorned window providing a view to the busy streets below. ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re contacting the admin?¡± ¡°Yup, do whatever for a minute or two,¡± Ein says as he lays himself upon the bed and stretches a couple times before relaxing. Clark squints an eye. ¡°And you do this by¡­¡± ¡°Sleeping. Unconsciousness causes a cessation of the game¡¯s projection to the player.¡± ¡°For safety reasons, I¡¯m sure.¡± ¡°Right. Most people would be logged out, but you and me, we can actually peer past the framework.¡± Clark crosses his arms. ¡°I can, as a player?¡± ¡°Sort of. You obviously can¡¯t contact the admin, but you can still sleep. It¡¯d be a lot like dreaming in real life. It actually is your brain dreaming, unlike me in this case, where I¡¯m more or less hailed by the admin when unconscious.¡± ¡°Huh, well I guess that makes sense.¡± ¡°Anyway, don¡¯t bother me, go downstairs and make some friends, look over your skills, maybe build into something that isn¡¯t CC.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Clark steps out, ¡°Just let me know.¡± ¡°Will do,¡± Ein says, resting in his full suit upon the bed. Clark just shakes his head and closes the door. Back in the old days of MMOs, it was a good deal harder to figure out if the people you were playing with were complete weirdos, but now that personalities and body language are far-better translated in games, it doesn¡¯t take long before it¡¯s clear as day. Clark leans into the door post in the hall as he clicks up his stat screen. 5L4Y Race:Human Class:Midnighter Faction:None STR:943 DEX:2829 INT:5 STA:5 CHA:5 LCK:5 He¡¯s been investing all those free Midnighter points as he gets them. In other, less demanding games he¡¯s usually okay with waiting a few levels before sitting down with a cup of tea and enjoying a few minutes of cozy min/maxing, but he cannot take that leisure here, where the pain is real. Clark¡¯s confident that his build is reasonable thus far, after all he just went toe to toe with a pair of cheaters and scraped by. He¡¯s sure that as long as he maintains three DEX to every STR, he¡¯ll be able to handle, and crit, just about anything. He¡¯s interested in INT and LCK, but it¡¯s not yet clear how much they effect what stat. He¡¯ll play it safe for now and go with the tried and true: very fast, and very strong. Clark looks to his right forearm a moment. ¡°This is pretty cool, though,¡± he says with a morbid smirk. He decides he¡¯ll go down and glean knowledge from the other players. Some fat nerd down there is bound to know what LCK¡¯s stat multipliers are. Downing the steps, his measly 5 INT does not serve him with any warning, but the boy¡¯s natural intuition is more than enough to put him on edge. Just as he rounds the corner overlooking the inn¡¯s bar commons, he hears a ¡°pipipi¡± noise. He ducks back and slowly curls around the corner. Hero and that four-eyed freak are passing awed onlookers enjoying their virtual beer. It¡¯s them. With a gaze of madness, he quickly opens up his skill book and sinks in his new points in preparation, just in case. It’s a legit quest, Knight-Hero! Part 1 ¡°That¡¯s so cool!¡± A burly barbarian says in admiration, his ale-soaked beard wagging atrociously. ¡°How the hell did you get that?¡± Interrogates a tall, armored, jealous-as-all-get-out knight. ¡°Nyan! Please notice me!¡± Says another¡­ interesting type with cat ears. The random-priest-healed Hero only smiles and waves as he tightens the grip on the Dragon Scythe. He needs to be careful of thieves, but fortunately his reflexes are now faster than a cat¡¯s. He keeps clicking up his stat points, nearing the 1,500 range for all of them as Kell approaches the innkeep, Jonson. ¡°A room for an hour,¡± Kell says, his midnight cloak convulsing with slow, methodical movements. Jonson steeps his fingers nervously behind the desk as he overlooks the looming, neigh ether-like figure of Kell, and the young Hero with his sick-as-hell scythe. ¡°¡­So¡­you guys understand that this isn¡¯t a sex hotel, right?¡± Hero leans over to Kell. ¡°What¡¯s a sex hotel?¡± Kell shakes his head. ¡°Of course, who would have sex in an on-¡­, wait, damn,¡± Kell looks behind him to the laughing group of players overhearing his conversation. ¡°We are well aware this is not a place for that, we just need a bit of time outside of public eye,¡± Kell explains. Jonson squints. ¡°Okay then. But I have to clean anything up there I¡¯ll be charging you. It¡¯s two hundred gol.¡± Kell places the precise amount on the table. ¡°Thank you. We¡¯ll be clean.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what they all say,¡± Jonson says with a sigh. ¡°N-no, not like-¡± ¡°Here¡¯s your keys, have a good one,¡± Jonson says with facetious sense of humor, thinly veiled by his dull gaze. ¡°Thanks.¡± Hero and Kell beeline up the stairs to their room, ¡®2G¡¯. Nothing is suspicious in the slightest as they pass into their room, with the exception of a compact, crumpled section of the hallway, being a very, very slightly darker shade of color than the rest of the hall. While INT is the opposing stat to stealth modifiers, stealth modifiers are jointly boosted with DEX; an important thing to know when your opponent is of the sneakier sort. ¡°Pipi?¡± Bright-Solemn asks as Kell closes the door behind them. ¡°Probably not. I imagine we¡¯d be safe here, at least for a while,¡± Kell says, pulling up a chair in the pretty, if Spartanly minimal, room. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Hero takes a seat on the bed. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan now?¡± ¡°You just get into your skills as far as you¡¯re comfortable. I¡¯d recommend some self heals and buffs, frankly, then I¡¯ll take us to Exeranoth and be done with it.¡± Hero peers out the window to the gold-white spires of the bustling city, each spire lit with a magic beacon to draw travelers from all over. ¡°This seems¡­ wrong.¡± ¡°How so?¡± Kell asks as he pulls out his empty coffee canteen and just stares at it. ¡°Like¡­ it¡¯s something inside of me, I feel. Like there needs to be a great, epic quest, not only for the scythe, but too kill this dragon. Are we really about to save the world in just a few hours?¡± ¡°Usually saving the world only takes a few hours, and it usually isn¡¯t ¡®the heroes¡¯ that end up saving it.¡± Hero has enough INT and CHA to tell Kell would totally go off on a pseudo philosophical monologue if he pushed further, so he won¡¯t. ¡°Huh, alright. I¡¯m going to take care of my skills,¡± Hero says as he opens up his skill tab and looks over his stats. Kell sighs. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m going to go out for a moment.¡± Hero raises a brow. ¡°Don¡¯t you think that¡¯s sorta risky?¡± ¡°No one knows where we are, and they won¡¯t mess with me in a crowd. I just need some coffee.¡± ¡°Coffee¡­ it¡¯s a drink?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°It must be important.¡± Kell laughs. ¡°Not really. I¡¯m addicted.¡± Hero purses his lips. ¡°Alright, well¡­¡± Hero fights off the urge to ask Kell how the hell he drinks, or eats, for that matter. ¡°Be back soon.¡± ¡°Will do,¡± Kell says with a nod. ¡°Bright-Solemn.¡± The little golden card zips about in a quick, daring figure eight. ¡°Pipi!¡± ¡°Keep an eye on Hero for me, please?¡± ¡°Pipi piiiii!¡± It responds with a military tone of enthusiasm. ¡°Wonderful, so long,¡± Kell says as he passes back out. ¡°See ya,¡± Hero says. The door shuts, and Hero is alone with the little eyesistant. He begins folding through his skills, considering at first what to max, but when he scrolls up to take tally of all the skills, he recalls that he has enough points to max out every skill in the game, all he needs is to unlock them. He randomly clicks up skills in the first three trees of Warrior, Thief, and Mage, until he¡¯s unlocked every skill for each of them. Hero tries a few, like hide, iron physique, and trauma care. Rather than needing to set them to a skill bar, Hero can call up any skill he knows intuitively, like it¡¯s suddenly an integral part of him. Now that all of his lower trees are maxed out, the only way he can spend more is to unlock more classes. As Bright-Solemn floats about listlessly, Hero goes up to the window, and stares toward the great spires. He doesn¡¯t say it, but he knows he could bring those great towers down with one hand. Steadily, the seeds of pride and superiority sprout within the young man¡¯s heart. It¡¯s not a bitter feeling, but enormous, powerful, and kingly. Just this morning Hero felt himself as a common boy who was interested in nothing but doing the right thing, but he¡¯s beginning to wonder if he isn¡¯t meant for something more. He spots a colored dot move across one of the spires of Eizerith¡¯s Royal Keep. Curious, he pops off magic sight, and zooms in. Walking across the balcony promenade within the shade of the great flying buttresses is a young, incredibly comely lady, escorted by a set of caretakers. Hero leans in with great interest. She¡¯s nothing like the girls back home, and he doesn¡¯t mind that one bit. Hero tells himself that one day he might hold her hand as her king; that wouldn¡¯t be such an unreasonable goal, would it? Musing about future visions as he leans into the windowsill, Hero sees a great shadow overtake the town. This is where the true story of Dragon Scythe Online begins. It’s a legit quest, Knight-Hero! Part 2 He opens the window and looks up. Spanning over buildings at a mad speed, a mighty crimson dragon impacts into Eizerith¡¯s great castle. Amidst the screams, Hero focuses in with his magically-enhanced sight. Without ceremony or word, the dragon takes hold of the young woman on the castle, and lifts off as quickly as it had come, flying back in Hero¡¯s direction. Hero takes hold of his scythe as he watches the dragon spew forth a torrent of fire through block after block of the city, he has one shot¡­ ¡°Out!¡± Kell shouts, slamming through the door and rushing to Hero. ¡°I got this, don¡¯t wo-¡± ¡°Get out!¡± Kell exclaims again as he rams Hero through the window the moment before the fire sweeps across everything around them for a one hundred meter radius. In the last moments, Kell pulls out a book, Hero cannot quite see what it is, however. He suddenly feels light just as the hellfires touch them, as if he were transforming in mid-air.There¡¯s a shadow, and a blink, the sound of pages turning from within a book, and the next moment, Hero sees himself at the city gates from whence they entered just twenty minutes ago. ¡°Why?! I could¡¯ve-¡± Hero stops himself as he looks over the city block they had just transported from. It¡¯s positively molten with flames, players running out from all directions to escape the flames. Hero watches them scream and writhe in the fire before they one by one fall upon the bricks and expire in agony. No healers are present that can heal the [demonic fire] damage over time debuff fast enough before it kills everyone struck. ¡°Looks painful, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Kell asks. ¡°I guarantee you, you couldn¡¯t have made that jump up to him.¡± Hero peers on to the suffering masses, some still fighting back the immense damage ticking hundreds over their head every second. ¡°Now what?¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Kell asks, ¡°We just go to Exeranoth and finish this.¡± The rouge analyst pulls that flimsy, pliable book from his cloak, and opens it. ¡°¡­Damn,¡± he says under his breath. ¡°What?¡± Hero asks as the fires finally die out. Kell shakes his head. ¡°The event narrative has begun.¡± ¡°¡­Which is?¡± Kell puts away the book. ¡°I can no longer integrate us into the spot, because now there¡¯s a quest chain in place that we have to get past in order to enter the final boss instance.¡± Thanks to all the stat boosting, Hero¡¯s become a fairly bright lad, but this is still well past him. ¡°What does this mean?¡± Kell sighs as Bright-Solemn taps Kell¡¯s head in an attempt to comfort him. ¡°Well¡­ well there¡¯s nothing to do about it but follow the quest line. It¡¯s probably going to be a physical journey across the leveling zones and defeating each boss there. That¡¯s my guess.¡± Kell looks to the castle, partially ruined by the dragon¡¯s brief visit. ¡°Well, how do we get the new quest the-¡± ¡°HEAR YE, HEAR YE!¡± A crook-nosed crier calls over the panicked crowds ¡°The daughter of his Royal Majesty, Hienrokkus Alphilion Exemus the Fourth, Princess Celine, has been kidnapped by the dastardly dragon. To recover her and be gone with this savage beast, the king will be holding a gathering of warriors within the main keep in the interest of forming retinues and parties to go to Mount St. Hellwithins and slay this evil foe, rescue the beautiful princess, and return the kingdom to its right status as a realm of peace and prosperity for all, everyone but dragons. The reward for this, is to become the next heir to the throne, by Princess Celine¡¯s hand in marriage.¡± At this utterance, the droves rise up in excitement, nearly half of them beelining it for the keep immediately. After all, who wouldn¡¯t want a virtual girlfriend? Warriors and mages and archers and rogues, both of the male and female sort, march off merrily to the castle as consider between each other just what this event could mean, and just how it will effect the game. ¡°And off they go,¡± Kell says wistfully. ¡°I suppose we should join them and find a party.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t think we could do it ourselves?¡± ¡°We should play it safe,¡± Kell says. ¡°There might be a player requirement for some of the dungeons.¡± At that Kell nods his head forward. ¡°You coming?¡± ¡°¡­So we¡¯re actually doing it, an actual epic quest?¡± ¡°¡­Yup, suppose so,¡± Kell says, ¡°isn¡¯t that wonderful.¡± The two step on for the keep as Bright-Solemn eyes over the crowds in suspicion. Something bigger than a dragon feels near, perhaps only through magic. Breathe, Wizard! Part 1 Jonson the innkeeper did not see the dragon, but he did hear the screams. It all went by so quickly. Just a normal day tending the inn, except for those two pairs of perverts with their boys; that¡¯s always a bad sign. The omen must have been spot-on, considering only seconds later the inn was filled to the brim with magical flame, killing everyone inside¡­ except him. All he really remembers about this moment, his the weird feeling of being pulled back, falling through a hole torn in reality, saving him from a painful, cindering death the second before the flames sweep into the inn, and then across the street. He finds himself upon one of Eizerith Castle¡¯s great spires. His savior is a tall, cloaked figure with great shining eyes, and an angled, relaxed smile. Off the cuff Jonson assumes it to be some demon or great, evil spirit, but it¡¯s a bit worse than that. ¡°Good day,¡± the figure says, releasing Jonson as the portal closes. ¡°Wh-¡­ I¡­¡± Jonson bumbles a moment cluelessly as he looks about. ¡°What happe-whoa.¡± Jonson just laid eyes on the inn, or better yet, what was the inn, along with the dragon flying off with the little princess in its terrible claws. ¡°Huh!?¡± The figure enjoys a well-meaning chuckle. ¡°I saved you.¡± ¡°Well, thanks, but what is going on?!¡± ¡°Just as I said, I saved you, and now you have a choice to make.¡± ¡°Wh- why would¡­¡± Jonson sighs as he leans into the spire¡¯s wall. He looks over the balcony, a thousand feet below to the city, and then back to the spire wall. ¡°Okay, what do you want?¡± ¡°Pardon?¡± ¡°My soul, I¡¯m guessing? Give me your soul and I¡¯ll help you out sort of things?¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. The figure tilts its head to the side just an inch. ¡°Not particularly.¡± ¡°Then why me?¡± Jonson asks, with a tone as if he were complaining to his late dad. The figure smiles in response, its angular jaws curling up like a living jack-o-lantern. ¡°Because I chose you. Sometimes that¡¯s just how fate works.¡± Jonson sighs. ¡°That inn was all I had¡­ That¡¯s it, then.¡± ¡°Surely, it couldn¡¯t have been that bad.¡± ¡°All my family¡¯s passed away, they left the inn to me, and now I have nothing.¡± Jonson turns from the wall and instead leans on the railing, overlooking a thousand miles of wild forest and great plain beyond past the city. ¡°Then you have nothing to lose, yes?¡± Jonson looks down wearily, though wide eyed, at once shocked, and yet exhausted. ¡°¡­I guess I don¡¯t. So what now?¡± ¡°You can live on the streets, begging for bread, or you can join the campaign against the dragon, and become a true hero.¡± Jonson smirks as if he¡¯s heard it all before. ¡°I¡¯m no fighter. I¡¯ve never hurt a person in my entire life. I¡¯m about the farthest thing from a hero.¡± The figure smiles. ¡°To be a hero is a choice: a daily, stoic decision centered on right priorities and a clear mind. You have breath in your lungs, so you are fit to be a hero.¡± Jonson scoffs. ¡°You got some nerve, spirit¡­ I¡¯m not strong, or fast, or particularly smart. I just wanted to¡­ find a nice girl and¡­ have nice kids, in a nice home.¡± The figure hums. ¡°I believe you have been chosen for more. I believe you have the spark of magic within you.¡± Jonson shrugs. ¡°You think so? Why?¡± ¡°Because deep inside of you, Jonson Wildegaard, is a person that cares, and only people that care can learn magic.¡± Jonson scoffs. ¡°Okay, so if I said yes, what then?¡± The figure moves slowly as he assumes a position looming over Jonson¡¯s shoulders and points down to the mountains. ¡°I suppose you and I will go on a quest, slay what we must slay, and free whoever there is to free. We¡¯ll be heroes.¡± Jonson looks back to the inn, now a cindering pile of memories and old dreams; the dream of his father and mother. ¡°I don¡¯t really have anything to fight for.¡± ¡°You do.¡± Jonson scoffs. ¡°Do I?¡± ¡°You can fight for no object now, as you¡¯ve lost all you own. If you¡¯re willing, though, you can fight for yourself, and your own goals. Do you believe society should be safe?¡± Jonson takes another look back at the inn. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Is that enough of a reason to go on a perilous quest, in your mind?¡± ¡°¡­Yeah, it is.¡± The figure nods. ¡°So what is your answer?¡± Jonson looks to the figure to look it in its great, white eyes. ¡°Let¡¯s do it. To hell with being scared of dragons.¡± Breathe, Wizard! Part 2 The figure nods just before it swings its hand through he air, tearing open a portal to an old, old room. ¡°Then our quest begins. I will teach you the basics of magic.¡± Jonson draws back. ¡°Alright, teach me all you got.¡± The two turn to enter the portal, and Jonson stops short. ¡°Why me?¡± ¡°Mmm?¡± ¡°Why did you save me of all those people?¡± Chaos grins. ¡°You¡¯re the only one that would have actually died, the others downstairs would have been ¡®logged out¡¯ to their respective worlds.¡± Jonson stares into the portal blankly as he attempts, and fails, to understand. ¡°¡­What does that all mean? What¡¯s ¡®logged out¡¯?¡± ¡°All in good time, young man, but first we begin with the practical magics. We must hurry to save the world, after all.¡± After a moment, Jonson submits to a nod as he steps into the portal. ¡°And who are you?¡± ¡°Just an old man who has a lot of space,¡± the figure says as they pass through the boundary of swirling abyssma into a well cozied wizard¡¯s study. All manner of magical instruments sprawl out with half-finished cups of tea lain out in chaotic formations upon study tables. The natural sunlight from above the evergreens shine through the window. They¡¯re inside a tower, Jonson realizes. ¡°You¡¯re back, sir!¡± A horrific, well no, actually pretty cute, black and white bipedal creature says as he dances around in celebration. Jonson can¡¯t quite believe what he¡¯s seeing, it¡¯s no more than a meter high, has antennae, and is waving around a frying pan. The figure nods as it reaches over to finish off one of its many not-quite-gone cups of tea. It speaks up with the dainty teacup still wrapped among its blacker than pitch fingers. ¡°Not for very long, I¡¯m afraid. I do believe I¡¯ve found him, dearest Cooking Minion.¡± Cooking Minion¡¯s ecstatic movements quickly dies down to a crass crossing of the arms. ¡°Oh, the one spoken of in the legends?¡± Jonson jolts. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re kiddi-¡± ¡°He certainly is the one,¡± the figure says as he puts down his teacup with one hand and removes his hood with the other. Great antennae raise from his simple cloth hood. It is the face of a monstrosity, something beyond the demons and the angels, Jonson is certain, and yet with something still resembling the mortality of a man- a living challenge to the universe¡¯s laws of possibility. ¡°I have the utmost faith that our young apprentice here will be more than enough to separate the worlds and regenerate the boundary between them.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°Separate¡­ the worlds?¡± Jonson shakes his head. ¡°Are you¡­ sure it¡¯s me that¡¯s supposed to be doing this?¡± ¡°Cold feet?¡± ¡°Very cold, sir!¡± The figure nods in admission. ¡°I do not blame you. What we are about to partake in will require motivation of the very highest order, but should you greet it like one of your inn-guests, then you shall meet the requirements of a true hero one lesson at a time.¡± Jonson nods as he looks around and finally notices that there¡¯s no door in this room. ¡°The hell?¡± The mysterious figure laughs good-naturedly. ¡°Dear boy, this is a protected chamber, even than window is well-guarded. There are passages out, they are simply protected from the casual gaze.¡± The young man feels a chill down his spine. ¡°Are we¡­ in danger?¡± Jonson asks. The figure¡¯s great, wide grin, somehow stretches wider. ¡°At all times.¡± Jonson shakes his head. ¡°I¡­¡± He takes a deep breath - he knows this is all he has going for him now. ¡°Okay! Danger be damned. Let¡¯s do this!¡± The figure laughs. ¡°Wonderful. Cooking Minion!¡± The little minion fires off a jaunty salute. ¡°Overlord, sir!¡± ¡°Fetch one of those delightful cheese plates for the young man. It¡¯s hard to concentrate on an empty stomach, you know,¡± the figure says, returning the salute with a facetious looseness, like a lazy commander. Cooking Minion fires off his own salute with such over-animated fervor that Jonson cannot help but chuckle. ¡°O¡¯ Captain, my Captain! Right away!¡± At that the minion rushes off somewhere else into the tower, and the figure has Jonson sit across it at a short table. ¡°Your first book is on the disciplines of the spirit, by R.O.Stens,¡± the figure says as it passes it over.Jonson creaks open the musty tome. The language inside is remarkably plain and easy to understand. ¡°Not really what you¡¯d expect from a tome about learning magic.¡± The figure scoffs. ¡°It¡¯s been enchanted to be easy to understand. Most wizards are in fact terrible writers.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­ surprising,¡± Jonson says in a mix of nervousness and fascination. ¡°So how much are we going to practice? How long will we be here?¡± ¡°Time is of the essence,¡± the figure says as it sips another cup of tea. ¡°You can consider this an accelerated lesson, as we¡¯ll be out in only a few hours. The magic I¡¯m going to teach you would take most practitioners a few decades, but I pride myself to be quite adept at many things, including teaching.¡± Jonson nods, not really quite believing it all just yet. ¡°So be it then¡­ thank you¡­ uh¡­ what should I call you?¡± The figure shrugs. ¡°Chaos, I suppose.¡± Jonson¡¯s not from the same world that ¡°Chaos¡± is from, so he does not make the immense connection of meaning that he would if otherwise, but he has to admit, there is a certain edgy coolness to the name. ¡°Doesn¡¯t really seem to fit you.¡± Chaos shrugs, his antennae laxing to the sides a moment lazily. ¡°I didn¡¯t pick it. The people I once terrorized gave it to me.¡± Jonson draws back slowly in his seat. ¡°¡­And we are saving the world, right?¡± Chaos laughs, his widened black jaws just large enough to accommodate a whole person. ¡°Yes! Yes we positively are saving the world. You don¡¯t need to read too far into that; that includes its people and nations as well.¡± The young initiate-mage sighs gently in relief. ¡°Gotcha.¡± ¡°Now, read!¡± Chaos waves his hand to the book in a shooing motion. ¡°Ask me if you have any questions. I¡¯ll be here as long as you are.¡± And at that, Jonson begins learning the craft of the wizards. Chaos shows him the way to focus one¡¯s mind, draw mana, and use one¡¯s magic signature effectively and perfectly the first time. Rather than struggle with the rigors of personal, self-led study for years and years, Jonson is able to cast a spell in only an hour¡¯s time. Run, Knight-Hero! Part 1 Hero, Kell, and poor Bright-Solemn find themselves in the center of the royal keep, sharing the space filled to the brim with adventurers. Everyone¡¯s joking around and theorizing about the upcoming event. ¡°How the hell¡¯d you guys get that gear so early?¡± A practically-naked barbarian-character asks, her towering physique playing to arching over to reveal her womanhood to Hero. Now a calmer lad than most with his mass stores of CHA, somehow it¡¯s a female that catches him off guard. ¡°Wh-I¡­,¡± Hero clears his throat as Kell nods over. ¡°ASL? No English.¡± he asks her simply. She scoffs. ¡°Whatever,¡± she says, suddenly entirely disgusted by them as she waves off elsewhere. ¡°What did you say?¡± Hero asks. Kell chuckles. ¡°Good for getting people to leave you alone.¡± The two look over the crowd. ¡°Some weird types in this city.¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Kell reconsider a moment, and then shrugs. ¡°Very, very few of them are actual residents.¡± Hero squints an eye. ¡°Like, how many?¡± ¡°About one percent of them are locals.¡± Hero draws back. ¡°¡­Really now?¡± ¡°Really,¡± Kell affirms. ¡°Most are actually entering this dimension through something called a ¡®server¡¯.¡± Hero looks aside, taking in the term as if it were the name of an ancient artifact. ¡°This is a¡­ divine instrument?¡± Kell hums. ¡°Yes, I suppose it is, at least in the way you might interpret it. These ¡®players¡¯, people around us, come here for fun and leisure.¡± A squad of royal guardsmen fan out from the royal balcony of the foyer as Hero strokes his chin in thought. ¡°So they¡¯re like¡­ immortal?¡± ¡°In that they won¡¯t die if you kill them here, yes. Unlike you, they¡¯ll simply bound back to their own realm, but for you, it¡¯d be over.¡± Hero looks to his side. His miraculous gift, The Dragon Scythe, is resting against his hip and along his back- even now he feels its vibrations, its attempts at communication with its present user. ¡°So¡­ they don¡¯t care if they die?¡± ¡°Most would. It hurts to die in this world for them, just as if they were really living in it, however they¡¯re not afraid of death, simply the pain they would experience from the dying process.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Heh, fuckin¡¯ nerds,¡± a nasally archer elf says as he passes by. Kell and Hero only glance the archer¡¯s way a second before returning to their conversation. ¡°They think we¡¯re players too.¡± Hero crosses his arms. ¡°Wow, mistaken for a spirit.¡± ¡°Yes, so be careful. They won¡¯t understand that our lives are on the line¡­ looks like it¡¯s starting.¡± Kell nods forward, his hood concealing most of his four-lensed plate mask. The crier from before marches out with an air of pompous importance. ¡°Presenting, his royal majesty,¡± he pauses for dramatic effect, when at once a snide rouge tosses an apple in his face, winning a laugh from the hundreds of players lucky enough to get inside before the great doors closed. Of course, this counts as a duel challenge and automatic pvp flag, so the young rouge is instantly brought to the floor with dozens of attacks from other players, all curious what it¡¯s like to kill a player. The crier, seemingly unaffected amidst the death screams of the unlucky asshole, clears his throat to continue. ¡°Hienrokkus Alphilion Exemus the Fourth, King of our land!¡± A suite of trumpets sound to proclaim the arrival of the king. Amidst the jokes and off-the-cuff insults flung around by the masses of players, there¡¯s a short, solemn moment in which the crowd is silent. The king has been crying, and the pain on his face looks far too real for it to have been designed for any minor quest chain. Truly, the very soul of King Hienrokkus is laid bare before this jeering mass, not one among the players for once wondering if this person could in fact be real. ¡°Adventurers, explorers¡­¡± the king, his sharp beard gray with age, takes a deep breath mid sentence. ¡°Heroes of the realm.¡± ¡°What a fag,¡± one of the players speaks out for a quick laugh from the people around him. The king¡¯s tired, sunken eyes surveys the crowd with a dead gaze. ¡°My daughter, and the light of my life, Celine, has been kidnapped. My greatest¡­ brightest, and bravest would not dare go on a quest as perilous as this¡­ it hurts me beyond words to turn to the masses for aid. She has been taken by that damnable beast of the infinite hells, the Mountainous Exeranoth; he who feels no mercy for our kind and wishes our crops burnt, our walls crumbled, and our people destroyed forever¡­ It is in this interest-¡± ¡°Just give us the fucking quest!¡± Another loud player screams over the king¡¯s speech. The king continues without pause. ¡°-that I¡¯m offering a grand reward to the figure that brings her back. My daughter¡¯s hand in marriage, the crown of succession, and to his assistants, a lifetime in the royal court as honored, treasured heroes.¡± ¡°What, you¡¯re gonna force us to marry a girl?¡± a feminine voice asks. ¡°Sexist bitch,¡± says another, garnering another round of laughs. The king stares on dully at the crowd; the immense disgust in his eyes is obvious, but it¡¯s clear that he needs their help. ¡°In that, I shall send you on your way. Go out in groups, companies, if it makes it safer, and rescue my daughter. For this to be possible, the legendary weapon of old must be recovered.¡± Kell jolts from his spot against one of the keep¡¯s pillars. ¡°This isn¡¯t good.¡± He grasps Hero and starts tugging him out to the doors. ¡°Come along.¡± ¡°What is it?¡± Hero asks, gracefully stepping along without so much as a stumble. The king takes a deep breath just as Kell reaches for the door to a servant¡¯s passage. ¡°The Dragon Scythe - the only weapon capable of killing the devilish abomination.¡± As most players start listening more closely to the quest details, a few sharp-eyed players snap their heads to look right at the only player they¡¯ve seen carrying a scythe: Hero. At once, he¡¯s inspect by nearly a dozen players, who check his weapon tab first thing. Just as Kell closes the door behind them, the room uproars as they realize that, not only does someone have the scythe, but they just left the room. Run, Knight-Hero! Part 2 ¡°What¡¯s the matter, tell me!¡± Kell shakes his head. ¡°We¡¯ve got to grab some members and get out of here.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°They¡¯ll be after the scythe, Hero, and players know by now that the game is full-loot world pvp.¡± Hero shakes his head. ¡°Hell¡¯s that mean?¡± ¡°It means that people are going to try to kill you if they can¡¯t steal it first! Come on!¡± Kell smashes through the servant¡¯s quarter¡¯s doors, just to be met with a knife in the face. ¡°Missed me?¡± Scribe Ein asks, his stealth-camo fluctuating out the same second Clark shoves a full set of his daggers into Kell¡¯s neck. They had been waiting for the perfect time. Hero reaches for his scythe, but Kell has other plans. In a blink, the cloaked, four-eyed mystery pulls from his person that flimsy strategy guide from before, tears at a page, and tosses it into the air. ¡°Get out of here, find people who will support you, and kill Exeranoth!¡± Kell yells as his static-screen, black and white media-blood spews from his multitude of wounds.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. In a flash, Kell and the two assailants disappear into nothingness, folding into the universe¡¯s fabric like a turning page. Hero is left alone with Bright-Solemn. ¡°¡­Pi?¡± Bright-Solemn asks, completely bewildered and shocked that Kell just got slit-on, but that it was completely slow to do anything about it. Hero shakes his head. ¡°We¡­ We can¡¯t do anything about that now,¡± he says, listening closely to the mass of footsteps approaching from the servant¡¯s way, ¡°Let¡¯s go to the mountains, pick up some people from the town on the way.¡± ¡°¡­Pi¡­ pipi,¡± Bright-Solemn says with enough sadness to melt the heart of even the strongest of foes. At that, Hero leaps forward, putting his 2,320 DEX to good use as he lifts off from the stairway out into the streets of Eizerith. With Bright-Solemn tracking fast behind, Hero leaps through the city blocks, moving at avian-dive speeds as he soars over the crowds of people. He peeks behind himself. Only now are the people from the keep reaching the outside, just in time to see him reach the treeline. Hero opens up his map tab, as he moves, and spots that there¡¯s a quaint town not too far away. Chances are news has not yet hit the place of the princess¡¯ kidnapping and the quest for the scythe, so he should have the benefit of not being hunted at every turn. In only minutes the first leg of his journey is complete, striking out from the treeline to the town with speed that rivals the gods. Long watermills turn from the stream that runs through the town, a calm, if lively paradise unstricken with the evils of disease and raiders. Hero nods. He¡¯ll find his party here. ¡°Pipipi!¡± Bright-Solemn exclaims. Hero also decides he¡¯ll go ahead and set precedent. ¡°I actually have no idea what you¡¯re saying,¡± he says. Bright-Solemn jolts back in the air. ¡°PI?!¡± Hero shrugs. ¡°Sorry.¡± Run, Knight-Hero! Part 3 He looks around as Bright-Solemn lets out a long, disappointed ¡°piiiiii¡­¡±. The dashing Hero looks around with a raised brow as he overlooks the passerbys at buildings. As a sweet, lone bandura plays somewhere deep from all directions, Hero lays eyes on the most frequented establishment in the town- the alehouse. ¡°We¡¯ll start there,¡± Hero says with leader-like certainty. Even with all these stats, he doesn¡¯t feel so different that he¡¯s afraid of looking a new challenge in the eyes; that¡¯s been in him for a long time. Hero pushes through the doors without ceremony and looks over the various figures arching over the bar and tables. Smiling faces, and passed drinks, the sort of happiness that can hide the truth behind any personality. He sees pointed ears, round ears, animal ears, or none at all. He sees all manner of weapons and tools and physique. He¡¯s not sure where to start. At once, Hero, who is almost stoic in his self-understanding, is presented with an entirely new challenge. Let¡¯s see just how far that CHA will get him when he applies it. He picks out a group of adventurers, a shirtless, blue-haired warrior warrior with a katana, and another one of those cat-eared girls- this one looking like a healer of some sort. ¡°Greetings,¡± Hero says to the two, at least half a foot higher than the male who¡¯s arched into his drink. The swordsman smirks with a lively grin, and the cat-ears waves gently. ¡°What do you want?¡± the swordsman asks with a loose chuckle. ¡°Can¡¯t you see I¡¯m busy?¡± Hero leans in himself as a display of confidence. ¡°My name¡¯s Hero. I¡¯m forming a party to slay a dragon. I figured I¡¯d ask around and you two look like the capable sort.¡± ¡°Haru,¡± he says. ¡°What¡¯s the level?¡± The swordsman adds. ¡°Mine?¡± Hero asks. ¡°No, of-¡± Just because Hero mentioned it, this Haru individual made the elucidating decision of pulling up Hero on his inspection tab. ¡°Level FIVE MILLION?!¡± the blue haired swordsman spits, causing a silence in the bar as everyone looks over to the scene of the three. ¡°W-well yeah.¡± ¡°How is that¡­¡± Haru¡¯s eyes travel around Hero, noting the one, the only, the Dragon Scythe. ¡°Isn¡¯t that¡­¡± He inspects Hero¡¯s weaponry. ¡°No fuckin¡¯ way.¡± ¡°Sir,¡± Hero responds. ¡°Even so, I still need help to kill Exeranoth. Don¡¯t be intimidated by-¡± ¡°Fuuuuuck that! Come on, Neko, let¡¯s blast.¡± ¡°Oh, really?¡± Cat ears asks as she watches Haru down his beer and get up from his seat. ¡°This guy¡¯s trouble. The game¡¯s open world PvP so anywhere we go we¡¯ll be fighting players like him. One could be their way right now looking for ¡®em.¡±Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Hero grips the bar rim with a free hand. This Haru person¡¯s actually pretty well educated for someone who¡¯s only been in the world one day. ¡°O-okay,¡± she says, getting up and taking her long, bejeweled staff along with her. Hero takes a deep breath, not moving to stop them. He watches them step out, leaving him in the bar with a bewildered company of drinkers. At once he moves to one of the tables to try again¡­ and again, and again. Each time he¡¯s turned down. Either he¡¯s too high a level and the people realize he¡¯s trouble to be around, or his approach comes off as too strange. One would think that for someone with his charisma stat it would be easy to attract people; it seems like there¡¯s more (or less) to these stats than what meets the eye. Finally he decides a completely up-front approach; almost aggressive in its confidence. He pulls up a chair to a dwarf, a meter high and polishing off his fifth stein. ¡°Good day, dwarf.¡± The wide dwarf, geared out in folds of chainmail, leather and cloak wipes a helping of ale from his rich oak-earth-colored beard. ¡°Aye, human. What can aye do for ya?¡± ¡°I¡¯m in desperate need. I¡¯m searching for powerful warriors who are willing to join my party in a quest to slay the dragon, Exeranoth.¡± The dwarf raises a brow as he takes another sip. ¡°I know not of this dragon, human.¡± Hero draws back. ¡°Truly? He is well known in this land.¡± The dwarf chuckles, bristling his beard up in a smile. ¡°Perhaps I do not know my own land then. For what reason are you hunting such dangerous quarry?¡± Hero takes a deep breath, relieved that he hasn¡¯t been turned down outright. ¡°He has cursed me and my father. What¡¯s more he has killed many and stolen away the princess of the kingdom.¡± ¡°¡­Aye, that is serious.¡± Hero leans in. ¡°It will be a quest taking us to the darkest realms of depravity. It will not be easy, I¡¯ll tell you so much, but it will be an honorable and worthwhile pursuit. What say you?¡± Hero asks, speaking his fanciest. The dwarf nods, his eyes closed in consideration. ¡°Aye. As it happens I¡¯ve just returned from my last hunt. I¡¯m a killer of beasts by trade.¡± He offers his gloved hand, fingers at least twice the size of Hero¡¯s. ¡°Gulrin Stonebuns, at ye¡¯ service.¡± Bright-Solemn flips away to conceal its expression, though neither humanoids could interpret it to be humorous. What kind of last name is ¡°Stonebuns¡±, anyway? Hero takes up Gulrin¡¯s hand and shakes. ¡°I¡¯m honored. My name is Hero.¡± ¡°Of what last name, lad?¡± ¡°None, sir.¡± The dwarf hums as he returns to his ale. ¡°That¡¯s fine, never been much partial to my surname either.¡± The two share a good-natured chuckle. ¡°So, do you know the direction of our travel?¡± Hero nods. ¡°I do. We march for Mt. St. Hellwithins. Are you ready?¡± Gulrin nods. ¡°Do we need anyone else?¡± Hero shrugs. ¡°We must be hasty more than anything. We¡¯re hunted by other players.¡± Gulrin squints an eye. ¡°Players, Hero?¡± Hero squints back. Could it be that he¡¯s¡­ normal? ¡°Do you mean, you aren¡¯t one of those-¡± Hero leans in to whisper. ¡°Players?¡± Gulrin¡¯s eyes shift about to the bar, stacked full with players taken up quests or enjoying some virtual libations. ¡°¡­ I¡¯ve been¡­ noticing some strange folks around, Hero. I¡¯ve heard that word ¡®player¡¯ thrown around quite a bit¡­ aye, I don¡¯t have the slightest reckoning what that might mean. They¡¯re like code-talkers¡­ like the goblins.¡± Hero sighs again in relief. ¡°I¡¯m glad, Mister Stonebuns.¡± The dwarf coughs. ¡°Gulrin, I insist.¡± Hero nods, his blue eyes shining with the light of a soul that found a friend. ¡°So be it, Gulrin. You¡¯re the first normal sort I¡¯ve met for hours¡­ I don¡¯t really know what¡¯s happening.¡± Gulrin nods as he fires up a glance to Bright-Solemn. ¡°Neither do I, lad, but I feel we can at least take solace in that our quest will unite us¡­ It¡¯s as if the whole world has gone mad¡­ What is that floaty thing there?¡± Hero smiles. ¡°Bright-Solemn. It¡¯s¡­ I actually don¡¯t know. It¡¯s a companion and it¡¯ll keep us safe.¡± Bright-Solemn hovers up. ¡°Pi,¡± it says in a deflated tone, not much in the mood to talk when no one can understand its words. Gulrin nods. ¡°Strange magic, but I can dig it. Us dwarves after all are quite good at digging.¡± He chuckles, leaving Hero to realize this dwarf¡¯s sense of humor is on par with an elderly man¡¯s. ¡°Alright, so if you¡¯re prepared we should be on our way. I expect we¡¯ll be hunted for my weapon. I encourage any questions to be asked once we¡¯re on the road.¡± Gulrin lifts up, the hilt-frame of his three-hander creating its own shadow in the torch light. ¡°Righto, lad. Let¡¯s be off!¡± ¡°Pi,¡± says Bright-Solemn without enthusiasm. As they head on their way to begin their quest, another few characters are having the fight of their lives. Strike, Assassin! Part 1 In the late game zones, there¡¯s a blasted land, ignited over and over with the fires of war that it no longer supports any stable flora. It¡¯s been dry for so long, it¡¯s become a full, mercury-colored wasteland that¡¯s home to only the arid winds and the millions of corpses of the fallen. Of course, the designers of Dragon Scythe Online were not aware that they had made this area in the game, because they hadn¡¯t. ¡°Do you see him?¡± Clark asks, crouched next to a pile of bones. Ein¡¯s silent as he peers through his rifle scope. ¡°¡­No, but I know he¡¯s close.¡± Clark scoffs. ¡°Gotta say, this game keeps impressing me. Making instances like this just for random PvP is pretty damn cool.¡± Ein scoffs as well, but not for the same reason. ¡°Right, just be on your guard, because if we don¡¯t kill him here we won¡¯t make it out alive.¡± Clark hums as he looks along the landscape of bones and dunes. ¡°This guy¡¯s really that maniac?¡± Ein nods as he continues his search. ¡°You about PKers, right?¡± ¡°Player Killers like me? Sure.¡± ¡°You can consider him a PKK.¡± ¡°Wait, but isn¡¯t he PvE focused?¡± ¡°That Hero player is. This untargetable is one of the original devs.¡± ¡°Jesus what a cheating bitch.¡± ¡°Yeah. He hates PKers so much he spends most of his free time just killing them. He almost quit once because¡­¡± Ein sighs. ¡°Look, kid, I can¡¯t really keep it up. I need to be honest with you.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°He¡¯s not a developer.¡± ¡°Whoa, a hacker?¡± ¡°And neither am I.¡± This causes Clark to glance over to Ein a moment before returning to the search. ¡°¡­Okay.¡± ¡°I generally consider myself a fairly honest man. Lying is below me, and I deceived you because it made it easier to get you on board.¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Cool, so everyone except me got the memo that this was a full-immersion roleplaying game. Awesome.¡± Ein sighs again. ¡°It¡¯s not. I¡¯m being for real, Clark.¡± ¡°Okay, how am I supposed to believe you?¡± ¡°Our target, Kell Inkston, he¡¯s an analyst from another dimension. He¡¯s been watching my association, the O.E.L., for thousands of years and has finally moved to stop us.¡± Clark squints. ¡°I said believe you. Say something that¡¯ll make me believe you.¡± ¡°Look, if you could ask him, he could answer almost anything about your world.¡± ¡°So? If he¡¯s from my world then he¡¯d know all that-¡± ¡°About your personal life. Your favorite food, color, animal, you name it.¡± Clark pauses a moment as he almost considers it ¡ª he shrugs. ¡°¡­Alright, but there¡¯s no way I can figure that out, so it¡¯s kinda pointless you telling me this and all.¡± Ein chuckles. ¡°I got it off my chest, at least. What I¡¯m saying, Clark, is that this is serious, because while your life might not be on the line, mine is.¡± Clark rolls his eyes. ¡°Well he doesn¡¯t have his little zippy bitch thing so he shouldn¡¯t be that bad.¡± Ein shakes his head as he starts focusing his scope intently at a single spot only fifty meters away. ¡°He¡¯s not an analyst from his association anymore. He no longer watches dimensions and catalogs happenstances. He¡¯s a runaway; and he stole that ¡®zippy thing¡¯ and his cloak from his boss. These people are big on starting fights, Clark, but they sure as hell know how to finish them. This is unprecedented, the O.E.L. has never faced a creature like one of Kell¡¯s.¡± Clark sighs, really starting to tire of Ein¡¯s cheesy fanfic garbage. ¡°Whoa cool. So what do you call these guys? Does he have an invincibility shield?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Clark says without humor. Clark chuckles. ¡°Wait, really?¡± ¡°Yes, we¡¯ve been able to ¡®kill¡¯ Kell a few times, but so long as the ¡®narrative¡¯ continues he can just write himself back in.¡± Finally, Ein says something so outlandish, that Clark actually begins to seriously consider it. ¡°¡­Write himself back in?¡± ¡°Yes. His race¡­ his species are¡­ from what we understand they¡¯re sentient knowledge. Like media that has a mind of its own. We actually have to completely stop the events of the story for him to actually die, and it¡¯s much easier said than done, just ¡®canceling¡¯ a narrative, especially with multiple main characters. As long as there¡¯s an event he would naturally be assigned to, he¡¯s almost god-like when it comes to the events surrounding it.¡± Clark stares at the same spot Ein is aiming down. ¡°What¡­ what the fuck?¡± ¡°Trust me. Our reaction was the same¡­ I think that¡¯s him.¡± Clark focuses in on the nearby hill. ¡°Yeah. But he doesn¡¯t have any range, so we have a distinct advantage. Also we have the element of surprise.¡± Clark grins cruelly. ¡°Maybe once we tear off both his arms and interrogate him, we ca-¡± ¡°Night-Winter, exhume!¡± Cries the voice of Kell from behind the nearby pile of bones. Without warning, a horrific, black entity smashed up from below the two¡¯s feet. It¡¯s Kell¡¯s cloak, minus Kell and moving entirely on its own volition. ¡°Holy Shi-¡± ¡°Get down!¡± Ein tackles Clark out of the way just as the cloak, shaped to a point and with the hardness of a rock, smashes down at them with the speed of a crash. The two tumble across the bone-scape, only for them both to regain their feet as the cloak tears for them like a shambling horror. Strike, Assassin! Part 2 ¡°He¡¯s unguarded!¡± Ein shouts, ¡°I¡¯ll take care of the cloak!¡± Clark leaps into the action for Kell¡¯s hill, his knives ready to finish what he started. As the din of gunfire and the smashing of bones overtakes the air, Clark rounds the corner and takes in a glimpse of the unarmed, unshrouded Kell. Covered in its static blood containing what looks to be a dense white ink filled with black squiggling letters, the slightly short Kell dives forward with his fists raised high to strike. ¡°En garde!¡± Kell shouts valiantly as he punches at Clark with precise, slow jabs, carrying all the weight of your common man. Clark, of course, is a few steps past this. Faster than Kell can react, Clark cuts forward with his knife, slashing upward at Kell¡¯s outstretched arm. Even though Clark¡¯s missing a primary hand, his left hand is more than enough to depart Kell from his own. The analyst¡¯s voice pierces Clark¡¯s ears as he shouts in pain. Clark laughs at how easy all of this is, just as he feels a sharp pain in his side. He leaps back and looks to his ribs. There¡¯s a piece of paper wrapped into the shape of a spike, shoved cleanly into his ribcage. ¡°Wh-¡± Clark coughs up as [bleed 3], [burning 3] [poison 3], [paralysis 3], and [mute 3] annotations pop over his head. ¡°How the hell?¡± Kell scoffs as he tears out another piece of paper to write on. After just a second of Clark attempting to regain himself as his entire body turns against him. Kell wraps the new wound in the written page as if it were a sort of bandage. Sure enough, the black-white blood static from his arm staunches out. Clark needs to figure this out. By some dark magic fuckery Kell¡¯s able to attribute aspects of items or weapons to paper¡ª just like a high value target to keep his aces hidden. The blood-covered Kell wastes no time in pushing his notepad against his leg as he writes with his only hand. Clark¡¯s not pleased to find that Kell write in English, particularly the words ¡°causes slash 5¡± on the paper. Clark remembers watching the beta footage where a warrior used a [slash 5] attributed attack against a mage; the lad was literally cut in half, ushering up a full gasp of awe from the conference room. ¡°Spend some time with your family, you stupid child,¡± Kell says with a grim tone as he raises the piece of paper up like razor blade. Clark can¡¯t talk, he can¡¯t move, and every inch of his body is in unbearable pain. As his hp ticks down at five percent a second, Kell weighs down just in time for a solid bolt of magnetically-accelerated lead to smash in through his head. The four-eyed mask is torn from the outside in, and through the other side, the openings gushing out that static blood.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Frozen from [paralysis 3,] Clark can only watch as Kell wavers at his feet a moment, and then falls over. Kell, in his cheap suit and with his myriad wounds, begins to crinkle up like old papyrus, the wind steadily deconstructing his body and scattering it out upon the crimson planes. After a few seconds Clark hears a scream from Ein amidst the crashing of the surrounding bones and gunfire. Ein saved him, but Clark cannot save Ein, it seems. In the next moment, Clark struggles to turn his head just enough to see Ein being pierced through by the dark entity Night-Winter, its cloak-like amalgam sharpened to a spear point as it impales Ein again and again. ¡°I-integrate!¡± Ein shouts with a gurgling, heavily-injured tone. At that moment, Ein disappears, in a way not unlike a sci-fi teleportation effect. He just flashed out of reality. All that¡¯s left is Clark¡­ and Night-Winter. The black cloak turned monstrosity begins crawling toward Clark with furious, stabbing steps into the ground, each move forward shattering the pile of bones covering the ground. Clark checks his status effects. It reads that [paralysis 3] has only five more seconds. Clark uses everything in his will to reach for one of his daggers, but what could it possibly do against such a fearsome creature. Night-Winter pulsates as it takes a warm, reverberating breath. ¡°He is deeply misguided, but he is my user,¡± it says in the deepest, most estranged voice Clark has heard with his own ears. ¡°He will reintegrate back to his mark in only minutes from now¡­¡± the cloak pauses for dramatic effect. Clark looks down to Kell¡¯s body¡­ and he spots his written-out weapon note: the one with [slash 5] on it. ¡°But you,¡± Night-Winter continues. ¡°You¡¯re going to choose not to log in again. There¡¯s nothing fun about what I¡¯m about to do to you. We don¡¯t need any more interlopers interfering with the goal.¡± Night-Winter raises its fabric tentacles with metallic weight, readying to begin the torment. In the only free second he¡¯s given after [paralysis 3] runs out, Clark snaps up the piece of paper from Kell¡¯s body and slashes across the reaching out Night-Winter. While game dynamics of Dragon Scythe Online usually don¡¯t work on these untargetable types, somehow the translation of Kell¡¯s paper makes it applicable. Night Winter¡¯s reaching tentacles are cut off and sent into the breeze, the piece of paper cutting through them as if it were a sheet of enchanted adamantium. Night-Winter doesn¡¯t rear back, but forward, sparing only a semi second for Clark to leap out of the way. There¡¯s no fighting this thing. Just before Night-Winter leaps forward again, Clark rolls into Kell¡¯s body, snatches his pen and paper, and runs around. Ensuring he holds his distance, Clark also goes around to where Ein ¡°integrated¡± and picks up his dropped rifle before he makes his escape. As he has a metric ton of DEX, evading Night-Winter is easy once he exits striking range. He opens his mini-map and spots an icon that tooltips as ¡°realm gate¡±. ¡°Must be a teleportation hub,¡± he thinks as he spares one last glance at the place of the battle, now nearly a third of a kilometer away. Night-Winter is blowing along the breeze in an attempt to catch up, but its not enough to reach him. Clark runs on to the nearest village, a disheveled, dilapidated shanty town with only NPCs. No player has gotten far enough to reach this place yet, and none will for at least another fifty hours. Clark peeks over the horizon one more time to spot Night-Winter, now but a speck downrange, and he turns to use the realm gate. As he expected, it¡¯s a teleportation hub that leads to any previously-visited city. Without so much as a thought he crosses into Eizerith. After all, as the very first Midnighter, he needs to set the bar high. He¡¯s going to find Hero and finish the job. Hey, whoa… wait, Knight-Hero! Hold up! Part 1 Hero and Gulrin step along a dirt pathway through a long-sighted field of lush green grass, the gently breeze swaying the landscape under the warm sun. Bright-Solemn is ¡°pi¡±ing out a tune as Hero attempt to explain to Gulrin his understanding on what¡¯s going on. ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re meaning to say that somehow these¡­ these players are entering our world and wreaking havoc?¡± Hero nods. ¡°Apparently. Kell said they can just ¡®log¡¯ into our world and do whatever they want without the repercussion.¡± Gulrin turns into himself as he looks to the dirt of the road. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ I¡¯ve had my suspicions. I¡¯ve seen a few hunting parties, killing anything indiscriminately, even each other.¡± ¡°Madness.¡± Gulrin nods solemnly as the wind rustles his beard. ¡°Is this¡­ a sign of the end?¡± Hero squints grimly. ¡°What do you mean?¡± He asks, though he¡¯s sure he already has a pretty good idea. Gulrin shakes his head. ¡°Will they stop? I passed through a forest outpost village a few hours ago. They were all panicking because these invaders had killed all the livestock. Apparently they just murdered all the farm animals, looted them of their meat and hide, and ran off.¡± Hero frowns in disgust. ¡°Perhaps by killing Exeranoth we can at least solve one of the problems.¡± Gulrin crosses his arms as they strike the high point of their current hill, overlooking a great wood beyond. ¡°It all remains to be seen. I can only hope my family back at the Great Drop are doing well¡­ Looks like this is our first trial.¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Hero looks out to the great forest, a deep, dark green overtaking the landscape before the enormous mountain range far, far in the distance. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of the Willwoods. Have you been inside?¡± Gulrin nods. ¡°A time or two, aye. I wouldn¡¯t count myself an experienced navigator, but I¡¯ve had enough close calls to know a good direction from a bad. As the woods are impenetrable from all angles but the roads, we¡¯ll have to go in down our current path.¡± He points down a couple miles to a small chink in the forest¡¯s oaken armor: an entry way into the forest proper. Hero nods. ¡°That¡¯s good. Let¡¯s do it. Ready, Bright-Solemn.¡± ¡°Pipi.¡± Bright-Solemn answers calmly. The three start down the hill and to the woods. ¡°So where all will we be passing through to the mountains?¡± Hero asks. Gulrin scoffs as he pulls out his pipe and lights it for a smoke on the go. ¡°You mean to say you don¡¯t know where we¡¯re going?¡± Hero clears his throat. ¡°I mean to say that I know the direction.¡± Hero points to Mt. St. Hellwithins. ¡°That¡¯s our orientation, naturally.¡± Gulrin shrugs. ¡°That¡¯s fair enough. We should pass through this wood, then next would be the Swamp of Death-¡± Hero hums. ¡°Scary name,¡± he says as Bright-Solemn rolls its single, golden eye. ¡°Then the great rivers, and then the mountain ranges itself. Do you have any clue where in the range our mark is?¡± Hero shakes his head, but taps his weapon, The Mighty and Merciless Dragon Scythe. ¡°I don¡¯t, but already I can feel Exeranoth¡¯s presence far away. I¡¯ll find him with the scythe.¡± Gulrin raises a brow as he stuffs stray tobacco back into his pipe with a dense, dwarven finger. ¡°It leads you to the beast?¡± ¡°I feel like it does. Like a sort of magnetism; an anticipation.¡± ¡°I see¡­ that¡¯s quite facina-¡± ¡°Wait,¡± Hero says, holding up his hand and reaching for the Dragon Scythe. Gulrin and Bright-Solemn share a quick glance before looking out to the nearby trees of the field. The breeze blows, tossing Hero¡¯s blond trusses about as he patiently focuses his energies. ¡°Welcome to the Wildy, faggeronis!¡± blurts an overweight-sounding voice as a crew of mercenaries drop from the trees around them. Their grins are wide, violent, utterly unaware of their immense, dooming mistake. ¡°Who goes th-¡± Hero¡¯s silenced as one of the ganker leaps forward without warning. Hey, whoa… wait, Knight-Hero! Hold up! Part 2 ¡°DIE YOU FUCKING NOOB!¡± He screams, his voice reverberating over the microphones of his party of killers- apparently they¡¯re playing from inside the same room. As the other raiders rush in, all laughing and joking and spitting insults at their victims, Hero draws the Dragon Scythe. In an instant, the party leader is eviscerated utterly with a single strike, the scythe not simply drawing through its target, but ushering out its internal organs with complete, dis-embodying force. The other raiders fail to believe such an enormous damage annotation can be made in the game, but sure enough, -OVERKILL- jumps over the leader¡¯s head before he¡¯s practically sprayed onto the grass to the right of the crowd. All of the players stop moving, but they don¡¯t stop talking. Two of the five kneel onto the ground outright to begin logging from the server, as over each of their voices, the horrific, damaged screaming of a young man can be heard over their microphones. ¡°IT REALLY HURTS! OH MY GOD OH MY GOD! HELP!¡± Each of the raiders scream out with the same voice of the raider Hero just wasted. Hero wastes no time in slinging his scythe forward at a speed that surpasses even Bright-Solemn¡¯s ranged attack. In the next second, three of the four remaining player killers are strewn through with almost comedic ease. Each of them give him zero exp, for there is no more exp Hero can contain. The last raider¡¯s mic output fills with the screams of four other young men as he kneels to log out. Hero looms over the last player, entirely motionless, as he must in order to log out and then properly disconnect the headset. ¡°Never come back here. You¡¯re not welcome,¡± Hero says, the same moment the player logs out, removes his headset, and immediately goes to call an ambulance. His character disappears into thin air. Hero replaces his scythe, and notices for the first time, he has updates in his ¡°Player versus Player¡± tab. ¡°I¡¯m no player,¡± he mutters to himself, ¡°I belong here.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. After a moment, Hero looks back to his party, a shocked-speechless Gulrin and a wide-eyed Bright-Solemn, totally dumbfounded by his speed and force. ¡°Aye¡­ Well thats¡­ quite the speed you have there, young man,¡± the stout dwarf says with a sunken, awkward expression as he considers whether he should be horrified, impressed, or both. Hero smiles back as he returns to the road. ¡°Thank you. We can¡¯t waste time with their kind.¡± Gulrin clears his throat. ¡°Clearly not.¡± The three reach the treeline, where the birds no longer chirp and the large animals no longer dwell our of fear. Hero can already feel himself invited in by the mystical gestalt of the evil wood, drawing him in with the lure of the austere unknown. ¡°Keep your wits about you, lad. The ones in here will attack in the dark.¡± Hero casts the thief skill Eyes of the Cat before heading forward. ¡°I got it.¡± Gulrin lights his small, pack-bound lantern, and the three set off into the depths of the dark forest. At first, the wood is almost pleasant. It has a certain quiet, complex quality that¡¯s easy to appreciate in the eerie sort of way; like a place that is at once peaceful and fraught with danger. The treelines close in steadily behind them, and the canopy of pinebranches thickens inch by inch. Before long they can hear the quiet chirping of insects, all chaotic and loose in their timing and rhythms. ¡°Aye,¡± Gulrin says. ¡°Their kind is close. Be on guard, lad.¡± Hero does not arm himself, but he does focus, holding his breath to a needle-point for minutes-on-end as they pass through the twisted wood. Gradually, the light from above the pines is snuffed out, and they are inside the godless twilight of the wood¡¯s throat. Conversation halts as the three watch and listen for movement from any direction. The chirping of the insects becomes louder, denser, and more in-time. No more than a hundred meters more into the wood, the cacophony of insects are in perfect unison, screeching out an orchestra of blood-lusting noise. Each of them feels the closeness of the horde, just seconds away, and just out of sight. Shimmying out from behind the trees and weaved between the pines; webs and webs and webs spanning on as even Hero¡¯s eyes can see. Finally, they reach a clearing in the dark, lit only by a sheer, razor-thin line of light from the trees above. At the other side they see a huge, amorphous black creature spill off from the ground. It takes them a moment to realize that it¡¯s not one creature, but a whole swarm of voracious spiders covering a single mother of hideous size. As the millions of spiders fan out to the sides of the clearing to form a protected boundary, the mother opens her jaws. The sound of ancient teeth sealed from age, hewn apart like metal on metal, fills the ears of the three adventurers. The flavor text spirits upon the screen as a terrified track of violins and horns blare out: -HELOB: DEVOURER OF HEARTS- Hey, whoa… wait, Knight-Hero! Hold up! Part 3 As the music reaches a fever pitch, red-eyed Helob lifts from its long-dormant spot and starts for them at a rapid, lifted gait. ¡°Piiiii!¡± Bright-Solemn squeaks in horror as Helob opens its iron-hard fangs to devour them all. Bright-Solemn hates spiders. In a flash, it¡¯s floating behind Hero and Gulrin for cover. The two waste no time to draw their weapons, as anyone would when a giant spider is running up to them. It¡¯s clear that Gulrin is expecting to be defensive as he draws up his crossbow from his layers of mail. ¡°Alright, lad,¡± Gulrin says as Hero leans in as if ready to dash forward. ¡°I¡¯ll distract it with my arrows, and you¡¯ll-¡­ Hero?¡± The dwarf realizes just in time that Hero isn¡¯t terribly interested in having Gulrin fight. ¡°I can¡¯t risk you here,¡± Hero says, Helob just fifty meters away. Gulrin mutters stupidly in confusion the same second Hero leaps forward, Dragon Scythe raised high. In a splitting sound that should never be described for the health of the reader, Helob separates with a splash into hundreds of pieces. -OVERKILL-You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Hero¡¯s splashed with the spider¡¯s venom and bacterial ooze, riddling him with a host of status effects ranging from [poison 3] to [slow 2], but these have no noticeable effect on him. His stats have been raised to a point that even a boss like Helob couldn¡¯t even land a hit. In only hours Hero has gone from a weary prey, to an absolute predator, and he¡¯s only getting stronger. Gulrin¡¯s brows are raised high in shock as Helob¡¯s confetti-like organs spiral through the air with a flourish of spider silk. ¡°W-well done, lad!¡± Gulrin says with a twinge of shock as the millions of spiders scramble out of the area in fear of incurring Hero¡¯s wrath upon their loathsome arachnid souls. Hero, in the middle of the clearing, nods the two to come with him. ¡°I think it¡¯s this way out.¡± Gulrin and a very-pleased Bright-Solemn catch up and they start out from the dark woods into steadily-lighter territory. ¡°You¡¯re something to see, lad,¡± Gulrin admits with a lowered brow. ¡°How did you get all that power?¡± Hero nods. ¡°The One True Goddess Rondi chose me as her champion,¡± Hero says with a simple nod. Gulrin¡¯s brow arches more. ¡°And who is this Rondi?¡± Hero hums. ¡°Is she not a deity known across our whole world?¡± Gulrin shakes his head. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard the name in all of Akernia.¡± Hero stops in his footsteps, halting the party. ¡°Our world is Aydoss, dwarf.¡± The two share an awkward exchange of glances, not hostile, but concerned, as if both are steadily realizing some deep, cruel trick played on them. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard that name in all my life, lad.¡± ¡°And I¡¯ve never heard of Akernia.¡± Hero looks over a moment to Bright-Solemn, silently wishing that it could talk and tell him all the secrets he never thought to ask Kell. The three move on through the dark wood and into darker, eviler territory. They’re just little bugs, Wizard! Part 1 Back down the road leading into the dark wood, the scent of tea wafts through the air just a second before a portal is torn out from the air. From the swirling vortex peeks Chaos, who looks both ways before stepping out, encouraging Jonson to follow along. ¡°So long, Cooking Minion,¡± Chaos says with a gentle wave through the portal before it closes, leaving the two to the breeze and the grass of the world that is probably Aydoss. ¡°So, this is it,¡± Jonson says. ¡°The start of it all.¡± Chaos shrugs. ¡°Or the end. I am not so preoccupied with specifics, you understand.¡± Chaos points forward with an aloof, dramatic flare. ¡°This way, mighty hero.¡± Jonson scoffs as the two start down the road. ¡°A bit early for that, don¡¯t you think?¡± Chaos shakes his head. ¡°You have what it takes, but there¡¯s always room for improvement.¡± ¡°Is that why you only taught me one spell?¡± ¡°That one is all you will need. I would much rather you got it perfect in what little time we had than for you to know many and get this one wrong.¡± Jonson hums with a smirk. ¡°One might think that you, as a great wizard, might have used some super-learning spell to help me out.¡± Chaos¡¯ great black jaws curl in a grin. ¡°I did. You¡¯ll see the value of all you¡¯ve learned soon enough.¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Jonson looks to his new wand to the side of his hip. ¡°Soul transfer, hmm?¡­ Honestly, I can¡¯t see it. It didn¡¯t seem at all like the magic the others use.¡± Chaos nods. ¡°The people you know back at Eizerith use the magic that¡¯s practical to them, and you will be using the magic practical to you.¡± Jonson crosses his arms. ¡°Well, if you say so¡­ Whoa.¡± The two come upon the grave-marks of five players, designating where people died within an hour¡¯s time. ¡°A fight,¡± Chaos says plainly as he looks around the immediate area. ¡°So many¡­ Whatever did this, are they close?¡± ¡°It¡¯s likely. I¡¯d expect it to be a ¡®who¡¯ rather than a ¡®what¡¯, however. See how they¡¯re surrounding a single point?¡± Jonson¡¯s eyes look over the spot. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°They were probably gankers that were going for what they expected to be an easy kill.¡± ¡°But looks like whatever they were fighting had a different plan.¡± Chaos nods. ¡°It seems we have ourselves a companion or two for the trip.¡± ¡°Two?¡± Chaos looks over to the two sets of tracks heading into the woods, causing Jonson to roll out a soft ¡°Ahh.¡± ¡°Shall we?¡± Chaos asks. Jonson nods. ¡°Onward to victory.¡± The two start along the road, shaded over by the great clouds above. ¡°Getting a bit late in the day, don¡¯t you think?¡± Chaos smiles. ¡°Heroes operate on the clock of necessity.¡± Jonson scoffs. ¡°Yeah, gotcha.¡± Before long they reach the twisting vines of the dark wood. ¡°This is it,¡± Chaos says, almost with a sense of pride, ¡°your first challenge.¡± Jonson stares into the enigmatic dark. ¡°What¡¯s in there?¡± Chaos shrugs. ¡°Probably something spooky.¡± He reaches into his cloak and produces a magic, blue-flamed lantern. ¡°I¡¯ll provide light, and you protect us. Sound good?¡± His grin is so friendly it¡¯s positively oozing with naivete, as if they were exploring a backyard. Jonson looks on into the dark a moment more, and steps forward. ¡°Sounds great.¡± Immediately he regrets the decision, but he doesn¡¯t want to turn around and pass by Chaos; an impulse out of both honor, and fear. They’re just little bugs, Wizard! Part 2 ¡°Second thoughts?¡± he asks in a deep, cultured tone. Jonson sighs. ¡°I don¡¯t have anything for me back there¡­ No, I¡¯m okay.¡± At that, they set forward, stepping deep into the mouth of that swirling darkwood. The cold air grows colder, and the blue mist gains a deep azure hue as the sound of angry insects chittering overtakes Jonson¡¯s hearing. Jonson can see from all sides furious, many-legged creatures waiting right at the rim of the lantern light- waiting for it to go out. ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re a mighty wizard, right? Like, legendarily powerful?¡± Chaos laughs. ¡°No, you¡¯re a mighty wizard.¡± ¡°But what am I fighting that the spell you taught me would be helpful?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll know it when you see it,¡± Chaos says with a peaceful nod. ¡°That¡¯s not very specific.¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t need to be. I have a lot of faith in you, and so should you.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Jonson takes a deep breath as they reach a wide opening. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll do my best.¡± ¡°Ahh,¡± Chaos says, looking across the clearing with his glowing white eyes. ¡°You¡¯ll have to when you¡¯re fighting a giant spider, I¡¯d suspect.¡± ¡°¡­What?¡± -HELOB: DEVOURER OF HEARTS- ¡°No¡­no, no way!¡± Chaos pats Jonson on the back as the swarm of spiders again form the arena. ¡°Best of luck, legendary wizard! I was under the impression that this boss wouldn¡¯t respawn for an hour or so more, but I suppose that was my bad. No large problem for you, right? Ahh, and here it comes!¡± Jonson shakes his head slowly as he watches the immense frame of the horrific beast step forward, as powerful and furious as when it had met Hero, except this isn¡¯t Hero; it¡¯s Jonson, the innkeeper boy. ¡°I¡­ No¡­ Oh gods, please, please no!¡± Jonson swings to look over at Chaos, who is resting gently by a tree, under attack by a hundred thousand spiders that cannot seem to even cause discomfort to him. Chaos fires Jonson an authoritative thumbs up just as Helob breaks into leaping distance. Jonson turns back just in time to find a two ton night-black spider jump at him with its fangs bared and ready to tear into him. Jonson seethes in air for his only free split second before he speaks out his spell. Speaking isn¡¯t really the correct term, but it¡¯s certainly an expression of Jonson and who he is, like talking, or dancing, or art would be. Chaos grins as there a distinctive tear in the sound-channel of the game world, as if a glitch happened. Jonson stares forward in horror at Helob, whose level has suddenly been reduced to ¡°-value¡±. Without pause, he throws forward his fist, crushing the giant animal in a single strike and sending it into the trees with his average human strength. They’re just little bugs, Wizard! Part 3 There¡¯s an impressed pause as the spiders clear out a second time in the hour. Jonson¡¯s numb, cold sweat and inward churnings distract him only a moment from Chaos¡¯ slow golfclap. ¡°Well, you certainly are quite the legendary wizard, aren¡¯t you?¡± It takes a moment for Jonson to right himself to his full height. It was such an unbelievable, horrible rush, he can hardly believe it was real. ¡°Did I¡­ was that me?¡± Chaos nods. ¡°Correct: simple ethermancy is all you need to temporarily mix around some ones and zeroes.¡± Jonson glances to Chaos as he approaches with the lantern. ¡°Wait¡­ what?¡± Chaos waves him along. ¡°All questions as we move forward, legendary wizard.¡± ¡°What did I just do?¡± Jonson asks as he starts forward immediately. ¡°You temporarily lifted the boundary of reality as this world knows of it.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think I understand at all¡­. Is this is what I need to become a true hero?¡±The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The mysterious overlord laughs. ¡°With what you will be going up against, you¡¯ll be needing all the help you can get¡­ A matter of fact¡­.¡± Chaos looks behind them back towards the city. ¡°What?¡± ¡°One of said opponents will be passing our way soon¡­ ah, and there he is, good day!¡± Chaos says with a grin as he waves to the trees. Chaos watches the trees to the back closely, and then his gaze steadily moves across their side and then ahead of them. ¡°Must not be in the mood for a chat. What a shame.¡± Jonson crosses his arms in bewilderment. ¡°This is horrible.¡± Chaos nods as he peers down the path, squinting his great glowing eyes as he considers something that Jonson is afraid he¡¯ll never understand. ¡°If you see it that way, certainly,¡± Chaos says simply as he reaches into his mouth and flick out a small sheet of paper. ¡°Looks like one of our other rivals needs a good turn.¡± Chaos writes something small on the piece of paper, folds it into a dove, places the pen in the dove¡¯s talons, and speaks a few words into it. At once, the paper dove animates, grips the pen, and with a literary coo, takes off down in their direction of travel. ¡°What was that?¡± ¡°A show of good faith. He does not know it, but he too is working toward our purposes.¡± Jonson raises a brow. ¡°Who and what purpose?¡± Chaos nods. ¡°Fair questions. Whether or not he knows it, that Inklend analyst Kell will see himself completing our own goal of separating the dimension, tearing it asunder returning it to a better state.¡± ¡°Will this¡­ destroy the world, instead of save it?¡± Chaos nods again. ¡°It will be the end of what we know as this world, but trust me in that you will think it a vast improvement.¡± The two set off down the road, Jonson¡¯s thoughts deeply on the subject of his world¡¯s authenticity to these strange, otherworldly invaders. PSA: a change in release schedule Hi! This is just a quick inset today, letting you know I''ll be releasing new segments as full chapters from now on. After gauging reader preference, I decided it would be an easier schedule (and less anxious read) if we could just push out an entire chapter each release. For this reason, I''ll now be publishing chapter by chapter as I finish, rather than once every day without fail.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Expect releases to be weekly to bi-weekly rather than daily, but of course with much, much more content each time. All the best to you and your kin, Kell Inkston It’s definitely a swamp, Knight-Hero, don’t get too ahead of yourself, alright? As they cross through a pleasant gladewood, Hero pumps his stats like he¡¯s been doing non-stop. Tallying up in the high five thousands for all of his stats is good, but he admits he¡¯s allowed himself to get distracted a few times. If he¡¯s really serious about saving the world and aiding his goddess, he¡¯ll have to try harder, he thinks. It¡¯s not long before the forest road opens outward as far as the eye can see. Before them is a great marsh, green with sunken grass and rife with wildlife. ¡°A swamp,¡± Hero says. Thanks, Hero. ¡°Aye, be on your guard.¡± ¡°What for?¡± ¡°I hear tell of a dark elf tribe in these parts, they guard a depraved wizard. They¡¯re not the sort to ask questions, ya¡¯ understand?¡± Gulrin ensures as they start down the watery path. Hero nods. ¡°But¡­ do they act like¡­ normal people?¡± He had some difficulty figuring out how to word that one; seems like there¡¯s just some awkwardnesses that high CHA won¡¯t fix. The dwarf glances over to Hero with a raised brow. ¡°That is, dwarf-friend, as in do they act like people from our own world?¡± ¡°Ahh, aye, lad. At least what I know of ¡®em.¡± ¡°Then at least the threat of violence will be effective,¡± Hero states plainly. The dwarf, thoroughly weirded out already by today¡¯s events, glances briefly to Bright-Solemn, who twists to the side a moment in the form of a shoulderless shrug. ¡°True enough,¡± Gulrin says with an air of uncertainty. The three travel across the cool shallows for a short time, periodically checking the horizon around them for any worthwhile threats. Before long, the myriad available trails reduce to only a few, and the group begins to spot large figures moving about the waters below. It¡¯s always just for a second, and never when they¡¯re looking, but they can certainly hear the movement of the water¡¯s swell. ¡°P-pi?¡± Bright-Solemn asks pathetically as it spots a shadow only a few meters away in the water- a large shadow. Gulrin sighs. ¡°Course, I didn¡¯t think t¡¯ mention the swamp beasts. They shouldn¡¯t be a problem so long as we don¡¯t disturb them.¡± ¡°Pi,¡± Bright-Solemn says with completely drained enthusiasm, too horrified to think straight. The group takes weary steps through the swamps, sometimes passing no more than a meter from one of the beasts in the murk below. Before much longer, a great tower comes into sight, crooked and decrepit with great age and humming with magic. Hero hums as he crosses his arms. ¡°This must be that tower.¡± Gulrin nods as his eyes shift over the swamplands. ¡°Aye, and no elves yet. Best be on our guard all the same, even more so if that wizard¡¯s still about.¡± Hero nods back as he looks off to the great tower. He¡¯d rather avoid confrontation if possible, the exp would be meaningless to him and the possibility of a fight would only prove to threaten him and his goals.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The group presses on for not even a minute more until Hero¡¯s 6,492 INT pays its keep and notes him to something almost imperceptibly small: within the water channel to their right, there is a vague, small movement, the section of water raising only a centimeter higher than usual. Hero never thought he¡¯d become quite so keen, but neither did anyone else. ¡°Watch yourselves,¡± Hero warns as he slings out the Dragon Scythe with a single, swift movement. The group arms themselves just as, from the depths, fly a slew of what looks to be chemical-reaction bombs in all directions around them. The moment the explosives dry enough in the mid air to take up oxygen, they explode, propelling a heavy orange mist through the area. Hero has nothing against the attack, and is instantly struck with the influence of [High 3]. With a constitution of 6,835 and rising, the effect passes with only its lowest required time, three seconds. At once everything is ¡°pixelly¡±, the in-game battle theme pulsing with chip tune flare, and just as quickly he¡¯s back in the world with full control of his body, now fully immune to another attack like that for a full minute. He doesn¡¯t waste his time in locating his target. Clark is down only fifty meters, running along the surface of the water with his assassin magic while dodging strikes from Bright-Solemn¡¯s laser. ¡°I had a feeling this wasn¡¯t the end of you,¡± Hero says as Gulrin screams about his ex wife in euphoric confusion. Clark just pulls from his jacket, now dense with knives, and throws weapon after blade Hero¡¯s way. Even during the short moment he was high, Hero could¡¯ve dodged these, so it¡¯s almost without effort that he avoids each passing tip as if they were moving in slow motion. Aside from the knives, though, Hero also hears, and feels the thin cutting of air from something softer, but pointed, like paper. ¡°You should give up, I¡¯m fighting for our world; my will and reason are stronger than yours.¡± Clark scowls as he continues tossing down knives. After a few more seconds of tossing and dodging, he speaks up. ¡°Get a life, dude.¡± ¡°This is my life!¡± Clark scoffs as he prepares his newest technique. ¡°Then you¡¯re gonna have to get a new one, you basement dwelling no-life. Check this one out!¡± At once the bombs fly toward Hero again just as the paper airplane from before soars down. The message the wise and legendary Chaos had written on the paper was but one sentence. It reads: ¡°Hero is in trouble¡±, and that¡¯s all a certain someone needs to cheat his way into the narrative, so long as Hero is, in fact, in trouble. As Hero is again put under [high 3], he sees the wavering image of a dozen Clarks, all manifesting at different angles and trajectories. ¡°Get wrecked, scrub!¡± Clark yells with his multitude of copies, all raising their knives for Hero. In a flash, the paper airplane unfolds, and a familiar figure re-enters the story, if only to be a meat-shield. Manifesting through the written word at Hero¡¯s back, Kell takes on half of the knives, reducing him to a bloody, staticy pin-cushion. Hero takes on the other half of the knives, each a high critical and smashing him down to 40% immediately. It¡¯s clear to Hero that no matter how much he builds CON, Clark will do nothing but pile on more and more damage and critical bonuses. ¡°Missed me?¡± Kell scoffs just as takes in the blades. Kell smashes the true Clark square in the jaw, producing a childish ¡°239¡± of damage the same moment Hero regains himself from [high 3]. This time Hero won¡¯t play around. Even though he¡¯s gravely wounded, Hero¡¯s movements are unhindered as he sweeps his scythe across in a single motion, destroying all the copies in front of him before turning to the others. Bright-Solemn targets its laser onto the Clark that Kell smacked, but he leaps aside just as the ethereal bolt lets fly. Clark lands back in the water, and dives deep, disappearing from sight entirely, but Hero is not so easily deterred. ¡°Ten out of ten, would bang!¡± Hero cries as he heals himself the same moment he bolts into the water like a fishing crane. ¡°Wait, you fool!¡± Kell cries as he stumbles about from his wounds. Hero disappears into the swampy murk, hot on Clark¡¯s tail as they dodge the snapping jaws of the horrific reptilian dwellers from below. Hero realizes quickly that Clark has speed on par to his, and through this is keeping away admirably. For certain, this is the hardest chase Hero¡¯s had to pursue in his short life. In a blink, Clark surfaces, uses his assassin passive skills to grab onto the surface of the water as if it were solid matter, and lift off. Hero surfaces just in time to see Clark land into the side of the wizard¡¯s tower. Hero squints in thought. Clark will be readying another ambush, he¡¯s certain of that, but he has to finish him off- he can¡¯t risk being caught out. The two race into the mystic wizard¡¯s tower, groaning with age, stuffy as a grave, and covered throughout with moss. The Real Battle in the Swamp, Analyst! ¡°Well¡­ there he goe-¡± ¡°Pi!¡± Bright-Solemn beeps in surprise and joy as it smacks into Kell¡¯s head and rubs along the shiny surface. ¡°Y-well, nice to see you too, Bright-Solemn.¡± Kell looks down to Gulrin, who¡¯s still salivating and going on about old lovers. ¡°Is¡­ is this one¡­¡± ¡°Pipi, pipipipi pi. Pi¡­ Pi pipipi pi.¡± Kell nods. ¡°I see,¡± he says with a condescending tone. ¡°The more the merrier, I suppose. How far is this in the story?¡± ¡°Pipipi, pipipi pi. Pipi pi.¡± Kell nods again as he looks about the surrounding swamp; the water¡¯s churning all around them. ¡°And these are.¡± ¡°Pipipi.¡± ¡°Really? Scary.¡± ¡°Pipipipi.¡± Kell reaches for Gulrin¡¯s crossbow and brandishes it facetiously. ¡°Ready to kill.¡± ¡°Pi,¡± Bright-Solemn says just as the first group of killer lizards break the surface. They¡¯re dark green, the size of vans, and with at least a thousand teeth. ¡°Pipipiiiiii!¡± Bright-Solemn adds in horror as it floats up a few meters to avoid getting eaten. ¡°Thanks for the help. If only Night Winter or¡­¡± Only now does Kell spot the piece of paper that he¡¯d emerged from. There¡¯s a pen folded into the page. The second he spots the pen and page, Kell drops the crossbow and takes up the written word. ¡°Ahh, nevermind.¡± Just before the first gator-drake vaults for Kell, he scribbles a few choice annotations to the paper¡¯s backside. Just as the creature snaps for him, Kell flips the piece of paper into its snout. With a shockwave spreading across the murky waters, the reptile flies aside in a tailspin, soaring away three hundred meters before hitting some other dismal part of the swamp. ¡°Pipipi!?¡± Bright-Solemn demands as it fires a bolt at another gator-drake. ¡°Oh, see for yourself,¡± Kell says as he dangles the piece of paper in front of Bright-Solemn. The notation reads: ¡°Exception user weight: 0.1 kg. Common weight: 10,000 kg.¡±. ¡°Pi,¡± Bright-Solemn says with an impressed tone. ¡°Thank you,¡± Kell says as he slaps the piece of paper across another charging croco-dragon, flinging it far away to the swampy depths elsewhere, ¡°I thought it up when I was outside.¡± ¡°G-¡­guhhhhhrannieeee,¡± Gulrin mumbles in a senseless stupor. ¡°Looks like he¡¯s coming to,¡± Kell says as he slams a leaping gator-dragon back into the water with a flick of the paper. ¡°Pipipi, pipi: pipipi pipi pipi,¡± Bright-Solemn says with a very naughty tone.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°I¡¯m not going to tell him that for you. That¡¯s very unkind.¡± ¡°Pipi.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not your insult translator. If you¡¯re really that angry you could try blasting a message in the ground or something.¡± ¡°Piii¡­,¡± it says as it blasts out three of the lizards in a row as more and more emerge from the depths. ¡°Wh-where are we?¡± Gulrin asks with a sleepy tone. ¡°Good day to you, dwarf,¡± Kell starts, slapping his hyper-enchanted paper across another of the ¡®gators. ¡°We could use your help!¡± Gulrin spots his crossbow on the ground next to Kell and in a jolt of movement takes it up and points it into the analyst¡¯s ribs. Kell doesn¡¯t even raise his hands, but looks Gulrin square in the face. ¡°Now, easy there, my¡­ short friend,¡± Kell says, trying to be polite, or at least something moving away from hostility. Bright-Solemn fails to hold in a few telling ¡°pi¡±s when it notices that Kell isn¡¯t all that much taller than the dwarf. ¡°The hell¡¯re you?¡± Gulrin demands just as a maelstrom of water below betrays the presence of another beast right behind him. Kell nods between Bright-Solemn and the point of the beast. It obliges and shoots a bolt into the water just as a charging evil leaps up for Gulrin¡¯s skull. The beast explodes utterly, one of the super-long damage annotations popping cutely over its head before entering its state of vapor. ¡°I am your friend,¡± Kell says. ¡°This little blip up here is Bright-Solemn, one of my¡­ assistants.¡± ¡°Pi.¡± Kell turns to Bright-Solemn, which is turning away huffily. ¡°Well that is what you are, technically speaking,¡± he says before looking back to Gulrin. ¡°I assume you¡¯re here to help Hero?¡± The dwarf nods, blowing out some of his unkempt beard that got in his mouth during the rather chaotic engagement. ¡°Aye, and we don¡¯t trust offworlders like you.¡± Kell scoffs as he spots Night-Winter exit the woods a ways off and dive into the fens, making its way to them. ¡°And yet I do trust you, Gulrin. My goal is the same as yours: The destruction of Exeranoth.¡± The dwarf squints a stony eye. ¡°That dragon¡¯s a problem for you, even from your world? You one of those players?¡± Kell shakes his head. ¡°I¡¯m from another realm. I¡¯m attempting to remove the players.¡± After a moment¡¯s consideration, Gulrin lowers his crossbow, but keeps it at hand. ¡°Lead the way, then.¡± In a dramatic fashion far more cool than Kell is accustomed to, Night-Winter leaps up from the swamps and entangles the analyst back into the form of a hood and cloak. ¡°Nice to have you back,¡± Kell says in a professional tone. ¡°The assassin boy has your utensils,¡± Night-Winter rumbles like an ink-black cloud of muscle and death, causing a sharp, shocked-stupid ¡°PI?!¡± from Bright-Solemn. Kell looks off to the tower. ¡°So he does. I guess we¡¯ll have to pay him a vi-¡± ¡°Pipi PI?!¡± Kell sighs as Gulrin looks between the three nervously. ¡°Yes, Bright-Solemn,¡± Kell says. ¡°Night-Winter can talk.¡± ¡°Pipipipi! Pi! Pipi!?¡± ¡°Honestly I¡¯m kind of shocked. I always assumed that you two, having been in the Magistrate¡¯s Armory for so long, would at least have exchanged some chit chat.¡± Bright-Solemn turns away huffily. ¡°Pipipi.¡± ¡°Wow,¡± Kell says with insult. ¡°That hurts a little,¡± Night-Winter says. ¡°I am not...that creepy.¡± Bright-Solemn peeks at the two out of the corner of its eye, and turns just a tad to speak again. ¡°Pi, pipipi, pi pi pipipi, pip-¡± At once, a bolt of lead soars past Bright-Solemn, causing the little golden card thing to scatter about in the wind from the gust. ¡°PI!?¡± Everyone gets low to the ground, which isn¡¯t very helpful considering its all flatland. ¡°Ein¡­ and friends,¡± Kell says, peering across to the rim of the swamp. Scribe Ein¡¯s reintegrated into the serverworld, and with him he¡¯s brought an O.E.L. strike team, a crew of four each with their own future-tech rifles. ¡°What the hell are they?!¡± Gulrin screams over the gunfire zipping overhead. Kell sighs. ¡°This will be rather challenging. ¡°Want me to break them?¡± Night-Winter asks with a tone like cut ice. Kell hums as a shot goes right past his shoulder. ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s go for a swim,¡± he says, grabbing Bright-Solemn and taking it along as the three dip into the water, leaving Gulrin. ¡°Wh-¡­ but are you sure it¡¯s safe?¡± Gulrin, his eyes glued on the horizon to the oncoming fire, doesn¡¯t quite realize in time that they¡¯ve already slunked into the fens to make their approach. ¡°¡­Lads?¡± He finally looks back, and sighs. ¡°Of all the selfish bastards¡­.¡± With only a cautious glance to bloodied, scrambled waters below, Gulrin rolls into the mirk to lower his profile and begin the miserable swim up hundreds of meters to get closer to his obviously outmatching opponent. He considers briefly to hide, but he is a dwarf after all, and his good late father wouldn¡¯t much care for a son that would hide away.